The Killing Moon
by marahh
Summary: Charlie Hale never thought of herself as one of the good guys. Dark, troubled, and reckless, she was an outsider that promised never to return to Beacon Hills. Now, with a sudden turn of tragic events, the werewolf finds herself becoming a reluctant hero. Can she learn to walk in the light, or will her inner darkness and past demons prevail? (Starts S1 E1. – eventual StilesxOC)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there Teen Wolf and others in the fanfiction community! Name's marahh and I just recently got into Teen Wolf. Fell in love with the plot, the horror/mystery/suspense of it all, how unique the werewolf lore is, and obviously the beautiful Stiles Stilinski! Anyways, this is my second fanfiction ever (my first is a Supernatural entitled "Gimme Shelter" which if you're into that, check it out) so please, if any of you have suggestions on how I can make this more true to the show and improve, comments and PMs are welcome (just make them constructive)!   
**

**Okay, well here it is... and my OC is the only thing I created (though I may change so details of the show to help her mesh in well with the brilliant Season 1 plot!). Okie dokie, read and enjoy! (And comment if yah got the time)! :)**

**ONE: HOME**

The woods were dark with the exception of the pale blue moonlight breaking through the dense canopy of trees overhead. The faint beams of light only highlighted the thin layer of swirling fog carpeting the forest floor. Everything was silent. There were no crickets or birds chirping, and even the low whistling wind had gone quiet, as if waiting for something dreadful to happen.

I was running. Running as fast as I could as my heart thumped wildly in my chest. The cool earth felt amazing on my bare feet as I weaved easily between the thick trees in the darkness. Bounding over a few fallen logs, I quickened my pace.

Something had caught my attention from a few miles away. At first I thought it was the sound of a quiet stream flowing somewhere within the forest, but as I got closer, I realized that it was not the sound of water, but rather that of blood bumping through someone's veins.

I stopped. The bright fire of the campsite intimidated me. Cowering in the shadows, I watched a man stirring a pot over the brilliant flames, and under ordinary circumstances, the heavenly scent of bubbling potato soup with freshly caught rabbit would have made my mouth water, but not this night. No, I was far too interested in the man.

He was in his upper forties and appeared to be in decent health. With broad shoulders, muscular arms, and squat frame, he seemed solid, and from the looks of his heavy and somewhat dirtied jacket and rifle, I knew that he was a hunter.

Inching closer I stepped on a branch, causing the man's head to snap up, weapon in hand, and for me to stop in my tracks. His dark brown eyes searched hopelessly into the darkness, and for a second I wondered if he spotted me.

After a moment or two, however, the hunter's attentions returned to his soup, and I gently picked my foot up from the snapped twig. Mentally chastising myself for my clumsiness, I circled his camp patiently.

His back was to me as he ate, and I could hear his starving stomach gurgle as he devoured his meal. I knew how he felt. I was hungry too. It felt like forever since I had eaten anything _substantial_.

My mouth moistened and I could feel myself salivating at the thought of my meal to come in just moments. I wanted to savor the moment. Really live in it.

So, I inhaled deeply and took one more moment to collect myself. Readying my body, I prepared for my assault as excitement and primal joy swept over my entire tensed body.

Then, in one swift motion, I leapt from the thicket in which I concealed myself so cleverly and let out a deep, blood-chilling howl, giving the hunter just enough time to spin around in horror as I sank my teeth into his flesh.

* * *

"Charlie!" a familiar husky voice barked as I felt my body being jostled awake.

Snapping out of my horrific nightmare, my eyes popped open as I shot upright on my mattress, almost smacking my forehead against my older cousin's.

Panting, I went to wipe the sweat from my brow, only to realize my entire long-sleeve t-shirt was drenched in perspiration.

"You okay?" his green eyes looked deeply into my own, his thick black eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," I nodded, steadying my breathing.

Looking me hard in the face, I knew he wasn't buying it: "You're lying. You dreamt about it again."

"No, I didn't," I growled defensively, throwing my covers off and heading to my dresser, avoiding his intense gaze.

"You're eyes were blue," he responded flatly, causing me to stop rummaging in my drawers. "When you woke up, they were blue," he specified some more due to my silence.

"I'm not deaf. I heard you," I yanked some clothes out and slammed the drawer shut, shaking all of the contents on top of my dresser.

"Hey, don't get pissy with me cause you're losing control," he snapped as I turned around and shot him an irritated look.

"I am _not_ losing control," I felt my chest tighten, internally panicking a little.

Was I losing control?

"You almost turned in your sleep," he stood up, following me into the hallway and towards the bathroom.

Spinning around, I looked up at him with a frown: "Derek, drop it, okay?"

As my cousin clenched his stubbly jaw, I knew that he was trying to remain patient with me: "You want me to drop it?"

"Do I need to say it in Spanish, or would you rather me sign it to you?" I quipped sarcastically with a hand on my hip.

"You can't keep repressing it. You need to learn to _control_ it," Derek crossed his muscular arms, clearly not appreciating my mouthing off.

"I'm not gonna get worked up and wolf out on you, okay?" I raised my brows, sincerely meaning it.

Since I was first given the Bite by my late Aunt Talia, I had an uncanny amount of self-control over my abilities. I kept my heart rate low and emotions in check, transforming whenever I so pleased. I actually enjoyed being a wolf, oftentimes spending a whole week in that form, but that was before a year ago…

"Charlie, we got a lot to deal with right now, and if you…"

"Derek!" I snapped, cutting him off. "I'm okay. So stop worrying about me blowing our cover."

And as my cousin opened his mouth to respond, I went into the bathroom, closing the creaky door right in his vexed face.

Were my eyes really blue when I woke up?

Maybe Derek was right. I hadn't turned since the incident and I was certainly out of practice with controlling it. Not to mention how stressed out we both were after catching wind that an Alpha killed Laura and bit some random kid. And if that weren't complicated enough, Derek dragged me back to our old place with the brilliant idea of enrolling me in Beacon Hills High School to 'keep an eye' on some dorky sophomore like a damned babysitter.

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled as I showered and got ready for my first day as a normal high schooler. I was always a bit of an outsider. People made me uncomfortable, especially people my own age. All of their shallow judgments, social expectations, raging hormones… it all gave me a headache. So why did I suddenly feel so nervous?

Sighing, I stared at myself in the cracked mirror. Being home-schooled since I was seven, I never had to worry about what I looked like, but now I felt my stomach churning over whether or not a lanky girl with wavy, raven black hair, and the oddest pale gray eyes would be considered acceptable by her peers.

Not that I ever cared much about fitting in, finding conformity one of the worst evils in this world, but I couldn't help myself from tussling my hair some more and putting on a bit of eye makeup. Then, throwing on a pair of black skinny jeans and a black tank, I slipped my mom's white gold wishbone necklace around my neck.

Frowning, I examined the end product in the mirror, turning a bit. Adjusting my bra one more time, I made my boobs as perky as possible and stood back. Awkwardly tall and skinny in build, I gnawed on my lip and decided that this was as good as it was going to get for today. So with that, I swallowed my usual breakfast of Vicodin and Xanax and grabbed my white leather tote bag, grumpily heading downstairs.

"You ready?" Derek asked as he leaned against the doorway.

Grabbing my black leather jacket, I arched my brow at him and responded: "As ready as I'll ever be…"

"Just stay under the radar and keep an eye out for a Scott McCall… he's in your grade," my cousin began to reiterate plans that we all ready went over about a million times.

Holding my hand up, sassily silencing him, I said with an air of boredom: "And he's on the lacrosse team… I know…"

"Don't give me an attitude and let's go," he gave me a pointed look as he grabbed his keys.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

Thick black eyebrows furrowed, Derek seemed just as perplexed as I was: "I'm driving you to school?"

"Yeah, cause a black Camaro is gonna help me keep a low profile," I responded flatly. "I'll just walk."

"You're running late and it's your first day," he spoke sternly. "You can walk home…"

Pouting, I looked up at him, but my cousin stood firm.

"Fine," I grumbled, folding my arms and following him out the door. I was looking forward to a long, quiet walk to clear my head and calm my nerves, but that apparently wasn't going to happen.

God, as if today wasn't going to be miserable enough…

"Don't look so excited," Derek tried to tease, breaking my concentrated sullen stares at the zooming scenery.

Glancing over at him, I noticed a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Easy for you to say… you're not being forced into adolescent Hell," I fumbled through my bag.

"Oh, lighten up, it won't be that bad. Just be your charming self," he grinned, knowing full well I was _not_ the best with first impressions… or seconds… or thirds for that matter.

Although it was nice to see him smiling for once, I did not appreciate his amusement at my expense.

"I still don't get why I can't just help you track the Alpha… I'm sure this Scott kid will be fine," I grabbed a cig from my bag and lit it.

Green eyes darting over to me, Derek gave me a harsh look as I puffed away my jitters.

"You shouldn't smoke," he gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying ignore the fact that I was stinking up his beloved car as a passive aggressive dig for sending me to school.

"Yeah, cause my werewolf lungs can't handle smoking," I retorted sardonically.

"Could you put it out?" his knuckles were turning white as my future prison came into view over the horizon.

Staring at the school glumly, I puffed away, ignoring Derek's angry glares.

"You'd listen to Laura if she told you," his voice was deep as he pulled up to the front of the high school.

"Well she's not here, is she?" I bitterly shot back, and as those words left my lips, the harsh reality that we had just buried my closest cousin finally set in.

Turning to look at Derek, I could see a range of familiar emotions flashing across his face, namely grief and rage. He loved Laura as much as I did, and feeling a lump growing in my throat, I immediately felt guilty for opening my mouth.

"Sorry," I spoke stiffly, flicking my cig out the open window and reaching for the handle.

"Keep your shit together, okay? Stay in control," he gruffly commanded, ignoring my genuine, albeit poor apology.

Rolling my eyes, I gave my cousin one last nod before hopping out of the car, and as my trembling legs made their way up the steps of Beacon Hills High School, I heard Derek's Camaro take off, leaving me utterly alone.

* * *

Derek was right. By the time I met with the principal and got all of my paperwork filed, I had missed my first class, which I was oddly bummed about. English was my favorite subject, and much to my chagrin, my second course was Chemistry.

Ticking clock assailing my eardrums, I sat there, impatiently picking at my dark purple nail polish while I waited for the vice-principal to show me to a Mr. Adrian Harris' classroom. The bell had rung about fifteen minutes ago, and as if being the new girl in school wasn't intimidating enough, walking in halfway through class was certainly making my anxiety worse.

"Miss Hale?" the middle-aged man with graying hair appeared from his office.

Standing up, I forced a pleasant smile, but from the look he gave me, I knew he could tell it was completely fake. Looking me up and down, as if sizing me up, I sensed he didn't like me all ready. Maybe it was all the black… Laura always said my wardrobe made me seem like some sort of delinquent…

Extending my hand in an effort to amend my shitty first impression, I tried to hide my obvious hatred of authority, and as he peered at me from over his glasses, he gave me one, firm shake before walking towards the door.

"Follow me," he called over his shoulder, causing me to scramble and gather my things.

Jogging a bit, I caught up with the tall, heavy-set man in a well-worn suit.

Without even glancing at me, the vice-principal spoke scoldingly: "I hope you were notified about our attendance policy."

"Yeah, I was," I stared ahead with a less than attentive expression.

"Good, so then you know we don't tolerate tardiness without an excusable reason," his voice was firm.

Rolling my eyes, I bit my cheek. Of course I knew their stupid rules… I just spent the last half hour having them jammed down my goddamn throat…

"Miss Hale," he said sharply, snapping me out of my own thoughts.

Looking up, his resentful expression told me he that he had saw my less than enthusiastic nonverbals.

Swing and a miss with the second impression…

"We understand you are new, but we will be holding you to the same standard as the other students. Any misbehaving and you _will_ be penalized," his dark blue eyes stared steadily into mine.

Feeling my temper flare up due to his condescending tone, I tried my hardest to appear apologetic: "I understand."

"Good," he knocked on a closed door before opening it and ushering me inside.

"Mr. Harris… class," the vice-principal pushed my sheet-white, slightly nauseous body to the front of the room, "This is Charlotte…"

"Charlie," I cut him off before I could stop myself. I always hated my name and made certain no one ever called me by it.

The room was dead silent as the vice principal and Chemistry teacher looked at me in annoyance.

Glancing around at the twenty-some-odd teenagers gawking at me, I felt my face flush as I stared back down at my black-heeled booties. Strike three…

"She just came from New York City," the vice-principal continued stiffly, "So I expect you all to make her feel welcome."

Shooting me one last, warning look, the vice-principal then left me alone, standing front and center and hoping I would evaporate into thin air.

"Charlo…" Mr. Harris quickly caught himself, "Charlie, please take a seat."

Nodding, I ran my hand nervously through my thick black hair and clacked my way down the aisle. Why in God's name did I think wearing heels was a good idea?

Ignoring everyone's stares, I sat at a table beside a tan, lean boy with dark brown eyes and even darker brown hair.

And as Mr. Harris picked back up on his lecture, causing all of the students to slump back into their seats, the boy leaned over and whispered: "Hey, I'm Danny."

Glancing at him, I looked him up and down. He was smiling warmly at me, and although I usually hated new people, something about this kid made me a bit less callous than usual.

"Charlie," I responded shortly, turning my attention back onto my notebook.

"So you're from New York, huh? That's awesome," he continued, clearly not deterred by my obvious disinterest in conversation.

"Yeah," I mumbled, flipping to a blank page, intending to doodle rather than take notes. I took Chemistry two years ago and sucked at it, so I didn't see a point in even trying.

"What made you come to Beacon Hills? Kind of a small town," he scribbled sloppy notes in his book quickly before looking back at me.

Tapping my pen on the table, I tried to remain patient and sound polite: "My family and I used to live here."

"Oh, wow okay. So…"

"Mr. Mahealani," Mr. Harris' scolding voice drowned out the rest of Danny's sentence.

Looking up with a mischevious grin, Danny apologized, all the while chuckling with an attractive and muscular blonde boy sitting at the table beside us. As if sensing my stares, the boy's blue eyes landed on mine, smile fading as he decided whether or not I was worth an introduction.

"This is Jackson," Danny explained pleasantly, while his friend and I continued to look at one another skeptically.

Giving me an unconvincing smirk, which quickly faded from his handsome face, Jackson leaned forward and said in a hushed voice: "Party this Friday after the scrimmage."

"It's at my place!" a pretty strawberry blonde girl with bright hazel eyes said in a bubbly tone of voice, flirtatiously smirking at Jackson.

"Sweet, okay," Danny nodded, brown eyes quickly darting to see if the teacher had noticed their side conversation. "You should come," he addressed me.

Glancing at his two friends' staring faces, I could tell that the invitation wasn't meant for me. Thankfully, I took no offense because the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken teenagers was not on my list of priorities.

"Ugh, thanks, but I have plans," I lied, turning back to my doodles.

"Look at you! Plans all ready," the attractive boy of Hawaiian descent beamed enthusiastically, all while the reddish-blonde teen obviously ease-dropped.

"Danny! If you and Charlie don't stop talking I'm gonna send you both to the office!"

Danny's bright smile immediately faded under Mr. Harris' scrutinizing gaze as I shrank into my seat and picked at my nails.

How did I always get myself into trouble?

After a few minutes, my embarrassment subsided and I got the courage to look back up again. Thankfully, no one's eyes were on me, allowing me the freedom to scan my new environment.

Within seconds I realized that Jackson, Danny, and some other boys in the classroom were all wearing the same red and white athletic jacket, leaving me with the assumption that they were all part of the same sports team.

Great. Nothing irritated me more than a bunch of mindless meat-headed jocks. Well… maybe besides their ditsy girlfriends…

Eyes traveling to the bright window, I stared lazily at the parking lot, telling myself I only had to get through five more periods of this crap, and then I could walk home, smoke a bogie, and have a nice after-school snack. And by snack, I meant a blunt…

Feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickling a little, the sensation of eyes boring holes in the back of my head caused me to turn around. Pretending to read the broken clock on the wall, I allowed my eyes to skim past the fair boy who was staring at me. He had short, dark brown hair and was wearing a flannel. The moment I looked in his direction, his face flushed a blotchy shade of pink as his light brown eyes widened and quickly darted away.

Turning back around, I could hear the boy's leg quickly tapping against support beam of his lab table, and I couldn't help but grin a little about how flustered he got.

Call it my sadistic side, but I always got a kick out of making people squirm. Maybe it made me feel more in control, but it put me at ease having that sort of effect on someone right off the bat.

Thankfully, the bell soon rang, signaling the end of class and bringing me a small feeling of exhilaration. I was free for the next fifteen minutes.

Gathering my things, I left the classroom as soon as possible, bidding Danny and his two less friendly counterparts farewell and making a beeline towards my locker.

The hallways were packed, filled with the loud chatter and laughter of merry students, making my chronic headache even worse. I had always been plagued by migraines, especially when the full moon was as close as it was, and the chaotic and ear-assaulting noises of Beacon Hills' corridors made me desperate to get to the pills in my locker.

Temples throbbing I tried the padlock. It wouldn't open. Frowning, I put the combination in another time, but again, the lock wouldn't open. Huffing in irritation, I debated whether or not to just yank the damned thing off, but Derek's disapproving voice soon sounded throughout my head, shooting down that idea.

"Need help?" came a female voice from beside me.

Looking a few lockers down, there stood a brown-eyed girl with dark brown, almost black hair.

"I got it," I responded monotonously, but realizing I probably came across rather cold, I decided to add: "But thanks."

Nodding the girl continued to go through her locker whilst I tried, and yet again, failed to open my own.

Feeling her stares, my eyes shifted over to her direction again. Still peering into her locker, there was a small smile on her face, dotting her cheeks with dimples.

Biting my lip, I ignored her quiet amusement at my struggles and ran a frustrated hand through my hair.

"You gotta jiggle the lock a little," she called over to me.

Looking back over at the awkwardly smirking girl with arched brows, I let her continue speaking: "I had trouble with it too, but apparently the school hands out crummy locks that you need to knock around a little bit."

Wordlessly taking her advice, I jostled the lock and low and behold, it popped right open.

"Thanks," I muttered, forcing a fabricated smile, which seemed to be convincing enough that the girl warranted it as an invitation to approach me.

"I'm Allison. I'm new here, too," she extended her hand.

Looking at her hand and then her pleasant grin, I participated in the handshake and introduced myself flatly: "Charlie."

"Is today your first day, too?" she asked me as I switched out some of my books and threw the pill bottle into my white Prada bag.

"Yup," I said shortly, zipping my bag and shutting the locker.

Turning to leave, Allison was still standing in front of me, as if waiting for my continuation of the conversation.

"Well… nice to meet you," I dismissed myself.

Heading down the hall, I then heard her call after me: "Charlie, wait!"

Groaning a little, I turned around as she jogged to catch up to me.

"What class do you have next?"

"Ugh, art," I responded thoughtfully.

"Great, me too! We could walk together," Allison suggested merrily. "You know, so we don't get lost."

Contemplating whether or not to just outright tell her I didn't feel the urge to bond over the fact that we were both new, I also realized I had no idea where I was going. In no rush to publically humiliate myself even further by being late again, I then curtly nodded, giving my consent to walk with the curly-haired brunette… a gesture I had a feeling I'd terribly regret.

* * *

The rest of the day went by surprisingly fast. Maybe it was the extra Vicodin… or maybe it was having someone to talk to. Oddly enough, the more I talked with Allison the more I warmed up to her. Not saying we were going to be BFFs and have slumber parties, but I definitely found her more interesting than the rest of the mindless drones that littered the halls of Beacon Hills.

She was smart and didn't talk too much, and not to mention she clearly didn't mind how stony I was. No, Allison Argent was definitely a tolerable human being, and the fact that she found me equally worth the effort to talk to made be feel a little bit better about being stuck attending public high school.

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Allison asked from beside her car.

"No, I'm good. I like to walk," I shrugged, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

"Okay… well I'll see yah tomorrow, then," Allison smiled.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," I tried to appear warmer than what actually felt natural, and before she could say anything further, I quickly turned on my heel and strode through the parking lot.

For the sake of time, I decided to cut through the athletic fields and take the back roads home, but as I rounded the corner I immediately bemoaned my decision, for I bumped straight into Jackson and the whole lacrosse team.

Looking down his nose at me, Jackson's aloof blue stare had the most judgmental of vibes, causing me to ball up my fists as anger bubbled up inside of me.

Cocky jerk… who did he think he was looking at me like _that_?

"Charlie," Danny stepped forward with a bright grin, strangely taking my mind off snapping the lacrosse captain's neck right then and there.

"Hey, Danny," I mumbled, weakly smirking, only to have it fade completely once I noticed at least fourteen pairs of eyes fixated on me.

"Who's this?" a tall, freckled boy with blue eyes and brown hair asked with a brash grin.

"This is Charlie. She's from New York," oddly enough Jackson was the one to respond, his eyes never looking away from my emotionless face.

"So, Charlie from New York," the cute blue-eyed boy stepped forward, grinning as he scanned me lustfully, shaking my resolve not to snap right then and there. "You gonna to watch us practice?"

Staring straight up at him with a dead-serious expression, I simply replied: "No."

"What? Why?" the boy pouted as his teammates sniggered at the blatant shut down.

"Cause maybe she has a life?" Danny piped up, causing them to laugh harder, and even I had to crack a genuine smirk.

"Oh come on, Lydia will be there with a few of her friends. Watch Greenberg play," Jackson eyed me closely, seeing if I would easily cave under peer pressure.

Testing the new girl. So typical…

"Who's Lydia?" I asked, figuring it was the preppy strawberry blonde that fawned all over him in Chemistry.

The whole team seemed to share a collective gasp of astonishment, and as I looked around at their somewhat stunned faces, I gazed back at Jackson, awaiting some sort of explanation as to why some strange girl would entice me into watching them play some silly sport.

"My girlfriend… you met her today in class," he spoke defensively.

"Oh, right," I feigned my realization, catching Dan's small smirk at the whole exchange. "Well, tempting as that is, still sticking with a no. But thanks," I flashed my characteristically snarky grin before folding my arms and walking through the slowly parting team.

Some of the boys whistled, others whispered to one another, and a couple even muttered something about my being a 'cold bitch'. What caught my attention, however, was the familiar face of the boy that I caught staring at me in Chemistry.

No longer wearing a flannel, the oversized padding and uniform covered his tall, thin frame, and as I walked by him, I made sure to look him directly in the eye.

Twitching a bit nervously, he looked away and stared at the top of the building, as if it had captured his attention the entire time.

Finally breaking through the seemingly endless sea of testosterone, I continued on my long journey home without turning back. As I strode away, ignoring the incessant whispers of the team, I felt a familiar prickle on the back of my neck, as if someone's large brown eyes were following my every move, and for some reason, I couldn't help but smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

**And I wrote chapter two to help chalk out my character more and have more interactions between her and the other characters, so as I said before, let me know what y'all think! (PS - I kinda got inspired by her through antagonistic protagonists - if that makes any sense - like Damon Salvatore in Vampire Diaries... kinda drawn to damaged characters)**

**Okay, READ and ENJOY!**

**TWO: MY MEDICINE **

"I don't see why you're so pissy about it," I sat at our grimy, makeshift kitchen table, lazily flipping through the newspaper.

"You had one thing to do… _one_… and could you do it? No," Derek growled, staring at me angrily from his position in the shadowy corner.

"Unbind your panties. It's no big deal," I sipped my coffee without even looking back up at him.

Emitting a beast-like roar, my cousin rushed forward and knocked the mug from my hands, causing it to shatter on the floor.

Glancing down at the mess with a bored expression, I then looked up at his snarling wolf face, and responded: "I'm not cleaning that up."

"Charlie!" he roared furiously.

"Whoa, calm it down there, big boy… who's the one lacking self-control now?" I raised my eyebrows at him, completely unphased by his usual overly aggressive temper tantrum.

Still breathing heavily, my cousin glared at me for a moment or two longer before regaining control over himself and going back to normal.

"That's more like it," I smiled widely, folding my hands on the table.

"They were poking around our property yesterday," he hissed.

"Who? Scott and the Sheriff's son? Did they find anything?" I asked, all ready fairly certain what the answer was.

"No," Derek looked away from my smug expression.

"So everything's cool. Relax," I glanced at the clock.

7:30am. Time to head back to that germ-infested internment camp…

"I asked you to keep an eye on the kid," Derek pressed, watching me stand up and put some things into my bag.

"I missed the only class I had with him. Sue me," I retorted dully.

"And the lacrosse practice you refused to go to?" he folded his burly arms.

Putting a hand on my hip, I stared back at my unreasonable older cousin: "The deal was I go to school and check out what's going on… not follow him around like some dopey fan girl."

"_No_, the deal was to keep tabs on him, which if you did correctly, you would've been there to see him show off his new abilities all practice long. Idiot's gonna out himself… and maybe us," Derek grumbled crossly.

Walking up to him, I pressed my finger into the deep crease that sat between his furrowed brows: "You're gonna give yourself wrinkles."

Swiping my hand away in frustration, he barked: "Can you be serious for one minute?"

"Derek, I got it. I'll stalk your new baby cub and I'll even make an appearance at his game tonight. How about that?" I threw my leather jacket on and slapped his stubbly cheek playfully.

"I'm gonna knock you into tomorrow real soon," he retorted impassively.

Heading towards the still charred door, I called over my shoulder somewhat merrily: "Sure you are."

And with that, I lit up a cigarette, put in my headphones, and let The Black Keys serve as the soundtrack to my walk to school.

* * *

Arriving in a relatively decent mood, I took my usual route through the field and rounded the bend, entering packed lot. Pretending not to see the throng of familiar lacrosse players playing catch on the grass in front of the building, I kept my black Ray Bans on and stared straight ahead.

"Charlie!" I heard my name, but decided to pretend I couldn't hear anything besides my blaring music, which was obviously preposterous due to my irritating superhuman hearing… literally had to make myself deaf to get some peace and quiet sometimes…

Heading to my locker, my daily morning migraine was worse than ever, for the full moon was tonight, and every cell of my being felt on edge. Jiggling the lock, I popped open my locker and swallowed my dear old 'blue and whites'.

"Hey, there," Allison's voice greeted me.

Shutting my locker, I found the dark hair brunette propped up, clearly waiting for me to notice her presence.

How long had she been standing there?

"Hey," I flashed a small smile, figuring she'd appreciate the friendly gesture.

The girl seemed to, cause she started chatting away about some animal she hit the night before and a guy that helped her take care of it.

"Sounds like a real hero," I responded sarcastically.

"Shut up," she laughed, curiously finding my dry humor funny. "Scott's a really nice guy."

"Scott? Scott McCall?" I perked up a bit, finding the juvenile conversation of a budding high school romance suddenly much more stimulating.

"Yeah. Do you know him?" she asked, brown eyes glistening at the thought of him.

"Yeah, no… I, ugh, I've just heard of him before. He's on the lacrosse team, right?" I feigned ignorance as she looked at me with an odd amount of intensity.

I had the feeling she wasn't buying my shady response.

"Yeah… he's really good," she responded slowly, still eyeing me closely as we walked down the hallway.

"Allison!" an overly friendly voice interrupted our conversation just at the nick of time.

Turning around we saw the celebrity power couple that was Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore parting the crowded hallways like the Red Sea and heading straight towards us.

"Hey Lydia," Allison flashed a bright, dimpled smile. "Hey, Jackson."

"Hi," he flashed a small, but actually honest smile, before finally noticing me. "Oh, you know Charlie?"

Looking up at the popularity obsessed, shallow lacrosse captain, I saw him staring back down at me with the same expression of abhorrence.

"Yeah, we met yesterday," Allison took no notice to our obvious distaste for one another as she grinned.

"Is that a real Prada bag?" Lydia asked out of the blue, causing all those present to look at her oddly. "Sorry," she giggled. "I know it's random, but I've been in _love_ since with that bag since… well, forever, and had to ask."

"Oh," I glanced down at my white leather tote. "Yeah, it is."

"Oh my God! You're so lucky!" she practically squealed, hazel eyes gazing at my bag as if it were the most rare item on Earth. "Where'd you get it?"

"Ugh, my cousin bought it for me last year… for my birthday," I muttered, thoughts traveling back to Laura.

She was literally one of the best people I've ever met in my life. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she was gone, and the thought that the Alpha who murdered her was running around made my blood boil.

"That's literally the best gift ever," the girl with reddish blonde hair took both Allison and my arms, dragging us down the hall, taking no notice to just how uncomfortable I was by the sudden, unwarranted amount of human contact.

"Charlie has English with us," Allison spoke up, glancing at me and grinning at how stiff I looked.

Again, the fact that she was enjoying my misery appealed to my sick and twisted nature. Maybe she wouldn't make such a bad acquaintance after all…

"You do?" Lydia beamed, pulling me in even closer so that we were practically cheek-to-cheek. "You can totally sit with us!"

"Totally," my voice void of all enthusiasm, as I picked up on a low snort of laughter from Jackson behind us.

Turning the corner, I saw our classroom number and my stomach immediately knotted, and just like last time I entered a classroom, everyone stared right at me. This time, however, was very different.

Instead of the intimidating, probing stares one receives as an outsider, I was met with wide smiles and pleasant greetings.

"Hi, Allison! Hi, Charlie! Hey, Lydia!" a girl with glasses waved excitedly as Lydia pushed us down the isle, ignoring the welcoming completely.

"What the Hell is going on?" I asked under my breath to Allison as my eyes shifted from one beaming face to the next.

"Apparently if Lydia likes you, everyone likes you," she whispered back with a shrug. "I don't know… I'm just going with it."

Taking my seat between the most popular girl in school and Allison, I brushed my wavy, black hair out of my eyes.

"Scott, this is the girl I was telling you about," I heard Allison addressing someone else.

Looking up from my chipped nail polish, I saw the charming face of who had to be Scott McCall. Under his mop of thick dark brown hair, the boy with olive skin smiled a bit timidly.

"Hi, I'm Scott," he extended his hand.

Eyeing him intently, I reached out and did my best to seem approachable. I needed to get close to him after all…

"Charlie. Nice to meet you finally," I smirked devilishly, seeing a flustered Allison squirm a bit over my choice of words.

Chocolate brown eyes darting between the furiously blushing Allison and my clearly amused face, Scott sheepishly grinned before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted the entire exchange.

"S-Scott… I really need to talk to you," an urgent male voice breathlessly stated.

Looking up, I immediately recognized him as the same nervous boy from Chemistry and the lacrosse team. Wearing a hoodie, he dropped his book-bag onto the ground and slid into the chair a bit clumsily.

Immediately noticing that he was interrupting something, the boy's light brown eyes flitted around at our curious stares.

"Ugh, h-hi," the words were rushed as he turned back to Scott and started saying something to him in hurried, hush tones.

Watching him bounce his leg furiously, I glanced at Allison who merely smirked and shook her head.

Leaning over she then explained: "That's Scott's best friend Stiles. Nice kid… just a little…"

"Energetic?" I raised a brow as a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"How much Adderall did you take?" I heard a somewhat annoyed Scott asked.

"A lot, but that doesn't matter," Stiles waved him off wildly. "You just need to listen to me about…" he suddenly stopped speaking, realizing that I was blatantly staring at them both.

Apprehensively smirking, the boy revealed that, he too had adorable dimples, but they soon disappeared as he quickly shifted positions so that his back was to me.

Voice lower than before and mouth covered, I turned to face the front of the classroom and tucked a few pieces of hair behind my ear, straining to hear.

That Stiles kid knew _something_, and I had to find out what.

Only picking up on a few of the words being exchanged, I mentally kicked myself for how weak my abilities had gotten. They were unfocused from my year of stifling such powers, and now when I needed them, all I could get was the constant babble of everyone else's side conversations.

Then, I heard it.

_Lycanthrope… _He said lycanthrope didn't he?

But just as I began to hone in on the conversation, the bell rang, ending whatever chances I had of figuring out what exactly was going on.

Sighing, I allowed the teacher's words about 'Metamorphosis' to go in one ear and out the other, as my thoughts traveled to the upcoming full moon.

A year of refusing to take wolf form and you'd think it would get easier, but that was a load a bullshit. Every month I grew more and more irritable, wanting to tear the throat out of anyone who looked at me the wrong way. That's why I'd been self-medicating so much. I needed to stay numb and keep those deep, dark urges buried.

But now with Laura's death and her killer on the lose, I was beginning to think that Derek was right about letting that inner-beast out every once and a while to regain control over myself when I was in wolf form; and as temping as it seemed, the idea of letting myself go, even for a moment still sent shivers down my spine.

I was a lot of things. A cold-hearted and snarky pill-popper that hated taking orders had a horrible temper, but I never thought that I was dangerous… not until that night. No, after the incident I finally understood that, deep down, I was a blood thirsty killer. I was the bad-guy.

"Charlie?" Allison asked, snapping me out of my deep thoughts.

"W-what?" I blinked a few times, looking around and realizing that Jackson, Lydia, and Allison were the only ones left in the classroom.

"The bell rang like five minutes ago," she notified me with an odd smile.

"Oh," I hurriedly packed my bag, "Sorry…"

"It's fine," Allison responded, as Lydia and Jackson waited impatiently by the door.

"Come on! We're gonna be late to Chemistry!" Lydia called with a wide smile.

"Coming," I threw my bag over my shoulder, still frowning a bit.

"You okay?" Allison asked with concern written across her delicate face.

Following everyone out into the hallway, it escaped me as to why this girl genuinely seemed to care. She didn't know me. Not really. And I could honestly say I wouldn't pay her the same courtesy if it weren't for her budding relationship with Scott.

"Yeah," I nodded my head, contorting my face into a wide, convincing smile.

"Okay, well will I see you at the scrimmage tonight?" she seemed to buy it, allowing me to drop the painfully joyous façade.

"Oh, you have to come!" Lydia chirped. "As a new student at Beacon Hills, you _need _to see how good the lacrosse team is!"

"State champions for three years in a row," Jackson boasted, puffing his chest out proudly.

"Only because of a certain team captain," Lydia fawned over her hubby as he got to the door of our next classroom.

"All right, then. See you guys later," Allison waved as she headed off to her own class.

Reluctantly waving, I turned to head into the Chemistry lab, only to have my path blocked by the overly PDA couple kissing in the doorway.

Feeling nauseous, I patiently waited in my spot, trying to look anywhere besides their smacking lips. Then, as they broke for air, I caught the image of Stiles staring longingly at Lydia from his seat, however my view of the downtrodden teen was soon blocked by their passionate continuation.

"All right, love birds," Danny's voice came from behind me, "Some of us wanna get to class sometime this century…"

Sighing with relief, I turned and gave him a thankful smile as the furiously giggling Lydia gave her boyfriend one last lustful look before waltzing into the classroom.

"Don't be jealous cause you're alone," Jackson teased his buddy as the two of them followed Beacon Hills' flushed queen bee.

"Jackson, even if I _had_ a boyfriend, I wouldn't be doing that," Danny responded as I took up the rear.

Boyfriend, huh? Explains why I felt so comfortable around him… and why he never tried to steal a peek at my rack…

Reaching my table, I found Stiles still secretly glancing at the totally oblivious Lydia, fixing her lip-gloss in her reflection on some of the lab equipment.

Unrequited ducky love straight out of 'Sixteen Candles'… thank God I'd never get caught up in one of those stupid high school love triangles…

Light brown eyes finally realizing that I was fully aware of his affections towards my new 'friend', Stiles glanced at me and tried to play it off as if the ceiling captivated him.

Chuckling despite myself, I turned around and played with my necklace.

"What's so funny?" Danny eagerly asked, wishing to be part of the joke.

"Oh," I grinned a bit, hearing Stile's' heart racing as he tried to see if I'd rat him out. "Nothing."

"You can't do that! It's not fair," Danny complained, brown eyes practically begging me to fill him in.

"Can't do what?" I played dumb, crossing my arms sassily.

"Fine," he huffed, trying to look offended. "Be that way."

Smirking wickedly, I flipped my raven black hair out of my face and smugly sat back, noticing the adorable brown-eyed boy's pulse slowed substantially down.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Danny was probably going to voice how unfair my silence was, but the bell rang, marking the start of yet another long, dull class.

* * *

Since today was Friday, my last period study hall was swapped out for a PE class, and although I loved to work out, Derek had given me strict instructions not to participate in any sports… probably due to his fear that I'd get worked up and lose control.

I couldn't say I blamed my cousin. I was naturally a competitive and hot-tempered person, and any type of contact sport would certainly send my heart rate sky-high.

But it wouldn't be another unlucky day in the life of Charlie Hale if Coach Bobby Finstock didn't announce that today's class would be a 'friendly' game of flag football.

"Great," I groaned, pulling at the overly revealing red booty-shorts Lydia lent me.

"What's wrong?" the peppy strawberry blonde asked, throwing her curled hair up in a ponytail.

"Ugh, nothing," I lied. "The shorts are just a little short…"

"Oh, shut up! You look hot! Kyle can't keep his eyes off you," she grinned, raising her brows as she nudged me playfully.

"Kyle?" I furrowed my brows in confusion, absentmindedly tugging the white t-shirt that clung tightly to my curves.

"Yeah, Greenberg," Lydia nodded over to the familiar Irish looking boy with blue eyes, and low and behold, there he was, practically smacking his lips like some kind of animal.

Gagging a bit, sarcasm dripped off my words as I avoided his creepily intense gaze: "Perfect…"

"Do you want me get Jackson to talk to him?" she asked.

Heading snapping to look at her, my eyes were wide as I spoke sharply: "Don't even _think_ about it."

"Why? He's a cutie. You two would totally look good together," she continued, fanning herself in the hot Californian sun.

"I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a dull knife," I muttered, actually offended that the muscle juice guzzling, cocky jerk even remotely thought I'd be interested in him.

Throwing her head back, Lydia broke out into hysterical squeals: "Charlie, you're so bad!"

Wincing at her high-pitched laughter assaulting my all ready sensitive ears, I flashed a weak smirk before Coach Finstock started going down the class roster and dividing us into two teams.

"Greenberg, red… Whittemore, white… Lahey, red," the coach droned on, tossing red pennies at every other miserable student running by. "McCall, white… Mahealani, red… Stilinski, white…"

"Coach!" Jackson stopped glaring at his recent rival, Scott, for a split-second to gripe about Stiles joining his teen.

"Oh sure, pick on the guy with ADD," Stiles piped up, arms outstretched at he strode over to his team.

"Stilinski, you're ADD's not the problem. You're overall lack of athletic ability and hand-eye coordination, maybe… but definitely not your ADD," the coach shot back.

"Again, thanks for the continued support, Coach," he quipped right back, causing Scott to grin, and oddly enough, I found myself smirking at the gawky kid as well.

Rolling his eyes at Stiles' smart-ass retort, Coach Finstock continued, "All right, Lydia, go red, Heather, white… um, Erica, red, Charlotte, white…"

"It's Charlie," I corrected him as I pulled down my shorts some more and approached him.

"Sure, whatever, go white," he barely even glanced up at me.

Standing firm, I continued to steadily look directly up from him, and after a moment or two, I could tell he was growing uncomfortable.

"Something wrong?" he asked as he adjusted his baseball cap and raised his brows in irritation.

Trying my hardest to block out my staring peers, I shielded my sensitive eyes from the harsh sun and responded: "I, ugh, I can't play."

"Course you can," he tried to brush me off with a small chuckle, "Can't be any worse than Greenberg and Stilinksi."

"No, I actually can't play… I'm, um, not allowed," I reiterated myself, trying to sound intimidated by the man, although all I really wanted to do was tell him to lay off the burgers and eat a breath mint. "I have a note excusing me."

Pulling it out from my front pocket, I unfolded the letter Derek gave me in case I ran into trouble. Holding it out, I allowed the belligerent coach to yank it rather gruffly out of my hands.

Brushing my hair out of my face as a slight breeze rolled across the sweltering field, I glanced around at everyone's steady stares, and for a moment my eyes lingered on the familiar pair of large, light brown ones.

"I can't accept this," his voice was harsh, immediately causing me to frown up at him.

"What do you mean?" I tried my hardest to keep my impatient tone even.

"I'm gonna chalk this up to you being new here, but I need a note signed by a parent or guardian, not just some random family member," he unnecessarily tore the paper up, trying to prove some sort of a point.

Pulse racing, I felt a vein in my neck beginning to throb.

"I was told by the office an exception could be made," I said stiffly, staring him square in the eyes.

"Sure you were," he handed me back the torn document and leaned into my face. "I'm the one running this class and I say go over to your team and play some flag football unless you get me a parent's signature."

Face twitching a bit, I tried to tell myself this pathetic excuse of a man simply picked on teenagers cause his life sucked, but having him invade my space like that made it very hard to think rationally.

"I'm sorry, sir," I spoke slowly, my tone cold, "but I'm _not_ playing and you're _not _getting that note."

Eyes widening in rage at my blatant disobedience, the coach opened his mouth and inhaled deeply, preparing to tear me a new one.

Before he could start shouting directly into my face, however, I cut the man off: "That _is_ unless you can bring my dead mom back or at least find my dead-beat dad who skipped out on us when I was born."

Blinking a few times, Coach Finstock stared at me blankly, his expression one of shock.

Smirking smugly for shutting the bastard up, I saw the coach's eyes dart around at the gawking students.

Just as expected, a man like that could not allow for some new bratty teenager to undermine his authority in front of an entire class, so Coach Finstock cleared his throat and tried to save face: "I'll be talking to the vice-principal about this…"

"You do that," I mouthed off some more, crossing my arms with a crooked grin.

Visibly irate, the coach then barked: "Laps… for the entire period… unless you can't run either, princess."

Still grinning haughtily, I tied my long, wavy black hair back into a low ponytail and saluted snarkily: "Right away, coach!"

And with that, I turned my back to the furious man and jogged past the crowd of my peers, all of which could not seem to pick their jaws up from the ground.

* * *

The shrill sound of Coach Finstock's whistle was the most heavenly noise to reach my ears.

Although I loved a good run, the irritating whispers from my classmates and glowers from the coach proved to be a distraction, hindering me from fully enjoying myself.

Still, pumped up with endorphins, I welcomed the weekend just as joyously as the rest of the class, finishing my final lap at break-neck speed. I missed really pushing myself and exorcising those physical perks that came along with being a werewolf. School, however, was certainly not the place for that. Maybe training in the woods with Derek wasn't such a bad idea after all…

Congregating with the rest of the class, I pretended not to notice the coach's outright glares of hatred.

"Damn, you're fearless," Danny muttered from behind me.

Still panting, I wiped some of the sweat from my brow as I smirked.

"And_ feisty_," Kyle Greenberg inched his way so close to me that I actually prayed he could smell how ripe I probably was. "I like that."

Grin fading, I simply looked at the kid with brown hair and blue eyes with a straight, emotionless face, causing him to look away with discomfort.

"And remember, big scrimmage right after school and since I know none of you have anything better to do, I expect to see you all there," Coach Finstock wrapped up his after-class speech.

Without another word, I tried to make a quick and quiet exit from the field to the back road to get home, but Lydia soon foiled my plans of escape.

"Charlie! Charlie, wait up!"

Trying to seem happy to hear her completely thrilled voice, I turned around and forced myself to wave with an awkward smile on my face.

"Where are you going?" she grabbed my arm, turning my unenthusiastic body around. "You promised you'd go to the game!"

"Oh, right. I forgot," I lazily gave my false reasoning.

My plan was to watch from afar, unnoticed by the rest of my peers, but I guess that wasn't going to happen…

"No you didn't," she smirked as if she knew something. "You wanted to go home and freshen up. I saw the way you looked at Kyle after class, and don't deny it!"

Unable to stifle my snort of utter disbelief that such a ridiculous statement came from her freshly glossed lips, I couldn't help but shake my head and smile dumbly.

"Trust me, that's _definitely_ not it," I responded as Jackson approached us.

"Babe, we're gonna warm up soon and I want you to be there," he said, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

Gazing up at her hubby with glistening eyes, Lydia nodded and pecked him on the cheek: "I'll obviously be there."

"Good," he smirked, before his blue eyes finally acknowledged my presence: "You coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" I tried to sound like I was kidding.

"No," Lydia smiled. "You don't."

"All right, well I need to put some stuff in my locker, so I'll meet you out there," I bought myself some free time before being stuck playing the role of some school spirited teen.

"Okay, but don't take too long," Lydia called over her shoulder, nestling under Jackson's most likely stinky arm.

Giving her one last reassuring smile, the second that overly bubbly girl turned her back to me, I let that pleasant façade fade.

How long did Derek expect me to put up with this crap?

Turning back around, I began to trudge towards the building, my mind on nothing but the pills and pre-rolled joint I had stashed away in my locker, but again, it seemed as if fate wanted to continue testing me, for when I reached my locker, I found Allison and Scott flirting shamelessly, leaving an awkward Stiles leaning against my locker, tapping his foot and bobbing his head to music only he could hear.

"Hey, Charlie," Allison called with a wide, giddy smile as Scott turned around and waved at me pleasantly.

"Hey, guys," I approached my locker, while Stiles quickly jumped out of the way.

Obviously excited to no longer be a third wheel, Stiles Stilinski seemed to have plucked up a bit of courage to start a conversation with me.

"Sup, Charlie," he jerked his head, probably in an attempt to seem smooth.

"Sup?" I asked, trying not to grin at the hopelessly dorky kid grinning down at me.

"That was awesome… what you did back there," his voice was fast, gestures animated. "Telling off the coach like that… I mean his face when you said that whole thing about your parents..."

Pausing from what I was doing at the locker, I glanced up at his innocently smiling face and knew he meant no harm by his words, but based on the gaping expressions of Allison and Scott from behind him, I decided to toy with the poor guy.

"So you think its awesome my mom died and my dad walked out on us?" I asked with a deadpan expression.

Face falling immediately, Stiles' light brown eyes widened to the size of massive saucers as he put his hands up defensively: "N-no… no," he stammered, eyebrows raised as he moved about uneasily. "That, ugh, that came out wrong…"

Trying to hide my sheer amusement over just how much he was squirming over his folly, I remained silent which only caused the kid to ramble on some more.

"That came out so wrong… I meant you putting him in his place," Stiles laughed nervously, but eventually gave up trying to make up for his thoughtless words, opening admitting with a sigh: "I'm… I'm an idiot."

Unable to contain myself, I glanced one last time at the thoroughly embarrassed Scott and awkward Allison before breaking out into an entertained, crooked grin: "Yeah you are."

Crossing my arms, I waited while Stiles decided whether or not to try to salvage the conversation once more or walk away in shame.

Choosing the former, the energetic boy blurted out: "Why couldn't you play in PE anyway?"

Closing my locker and throwing my bag over my shoulder, I responded in my characteristically straight-faced and flat tone of voice: "My therapist thinks I might hurt someone if I play contact sports…"

Unsure of how to take my words, Stiles glanced at a just as lost Scott before smiling uneasily at me. When I remained emotionless with the exception of a cocked brow, however, the boy's face became visibly uncomfortable: "Oh…"

Then hearing Allison's giggles from behind the two boys, I couldn't help but break out in a wicked smirk.

And as the boys looked to her, they finally realized that I was, at least, partially kidding, causing the both of them to chuckle in relief.

Shutting my locker, I then gazed at my three classmates and said: "Well… this was fun… but I'm gonna go."

"Ugh, yeah, o-okay… bye," Stiles nervously babbled while Scott merely shook his head at his slightly socially awkward friend.

"See yah later," he muttered with an apologetic grin.

"You're coming to the game right?" Allison asked for reassurance.

Sighing, I nodded my head heavily: "Pretty sure Lydia would send out a search party if I didn't show up…"

Chuckling, Allison agreed with my statement while Stiles' brown eyes seemed to pop out of his head at the mention of his secret lover's name.

"All right… well I'll meet you out there," I gave them all a curt nod before turning and heading down the hall.

Fifteen minutes… that was plenty of time to blaze up and make this scrimmage as painless as possible…

* * *

"No way!" I shook my head vehemently from my spot on the couch. "No way in Hell I'm going to some stupid high school party…"

"You're going," Derek continued to stand in front of the fireplace, impeding the light from reaching the pages of the last chapter of 'The Hobbit'.

"I made friends with Scott and the rest of those 90210 clones… even went to that stupid lacrosse game. I'm done for today," I tried to shift my position to continue reading.

Pulling the book out of my hands rudely, my obnoxious older cousin stared down at me with a hard look.

"It's his first full moon… and if he's going with some girl…"

"He's gonna be fine," I cried in exasperation, cutting him off. "Nothing crazy happened at the scrimmage, and nothing's gonna happen at the party."

"There's gonna be alcohol there," Derek wasn't giving up.

Raising my eyebrows with a falsely shocked expression, I gasped: "So that's what's in those red cups…"

"Don't be a smartass," my cousin was testier than usual… no doubt due to the full moon, as well.

"I just think you're being overly cautious," I responded, mind still fixated on the story I was about to finish.

"Can't blame me for that… teenage werewolf gets drunk, loses control, and kills some innocent… now why does that sound so familiar?" his green eyes were harsh and critical.

Feeling my chest tighten up, my eyes began to burn as I glared up at him. How could he say that to me? Derek and Laura were there when I found out what I had done… they saw me snap. So for him of all people to throw something like that back in my face…

Shooting him death rays, I tried to hide how painfully upset I was by appearing purely angry.

Stony expression faltering a bit, I could tell that he was regretting his words, but I didn't care. It was too low of a blow.

Rising from my seat, I stood directly in front of my older cousin and caustically shot back some of my own venom: "Don't you dare look down your nose at me, you hypocritical son of a bitch. Maybe I've made some mistakes, but at least I've learned from them. And let's not forget your body count either, cousin, or have you forgotten about Paige all ready?"

Green eyes flashing dangerously, Derek clenched his jaw and took a step closer.

Now, toe-to-toe with a just as incensed cousin, we shot daggers at one another, neither one of us willing to back down or apologize.

"Go get ready for the party," he hissed darkly.

"Or what?" I narrowed my eyes, sizing him up with the snottiest of expressions.

"Don't test me," he glowered dangerously.

"According to you, I'm the only blood-thirsty monster here, so no, Derek… don't test _me_," I corrected him, meaning every word I said as I glared up at his stormy face with a look of pure hatred.

Simply choosing to remain silent, Derek did not try to respond to my heart-felt threat, which I had to admit I was glad about.

My cousin and I were cut from the same bull-headed cloth. Our tempers got us into confrontational situations, but our pride would not let either of us bow out from the impending fight.

Not saying I'd actually kill him, and nor did I think Derek would ever actually end my life, but we certainly would've had a long, painful brawl destroying what little was left of our old home in the forest.

Storming away, I stalked upstairs through the dim hallways, trying to slow down my heart rate, for once I entered my bedroom and turned on the lantern, I saw that my hauntingly pale gray eyes were now the iciest shade of blue.

Gripping the dresser, I scrunched my eyes shut, breathing in and out, trying to keep a steady rhythm, and after a few minutes of this exorcise, I finally regained my composure.

Opening my eyes, I found that they had returned to their natural silvery hue, but this time around they were glassy and filled with the tears I refused to shed.

Walking over to my decrepit armoire, I yanked open the double doors and took out both pill bottles.

Sniffling furiously, I blinked the burning tears away, only to have them come back.

Hand's trembling, I crushed a couple of the pills up and swallowed the lump in my throat. Then, rolling up the twenty I had lying on the dresser, I snorted the two lines I neatly laid out for myself and sat back in my chair, letting the familiar and welcomed numbness spread throughout my body.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just wanted to thank my new followers and favoriters! Didn't think I'd get such positive responses right off the bat, so it means a ton! **

**Also, to the mysterious "guest" reviewer, AJTish is AMAZING! I'm so glad you were introduced to Gimme Shelter and Laura and that you're so taken with her! I am also THRILLED to hear you're giving this FanFiction a shot and are even taken with Charlie! She's a bit rough around the edges (on purpose), but you certainly don't need help for gravitating towards characters like that! Thank you so much for supporting and reviewing on this story (and supporting Gimme Shelter)! And PLEASE, make a fanfiction so I can properly thank you via Private Message! **

**Okay, the rest of y'all please read and review! And if yah got the time, review or comment with your thoughts! **

**THREE: DISPARATE YOUTH**

"Hurry up," Allison's voice was strained with both excitement and tenseness. "Scott's gonna pick us up soon!"

"I still don't get why I'm tagging along with you two," I responded from behind the closed bathroom door. "Being a third wheel isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"Oh stop. You're not a third wheel! We're just carpooling. Besides, I'm not gonna let you walk into your first high school party alone, you home schooled weirdo," she teased merrily.

"How generous of you," I retorted, fighting to stifle the smirk tugging at my lips.

"I know," she mumbled, suddenly knocking on the door some more. "But open up! I wanna see!"

"I'm not ready," I frowned at my own made-up reflection.

Allison had curled my hair with hot rollers, leaving my shiny black locks to cascade loosely down to just below my breasts.

I had to admit my hair looked awesome, and my outfit was perfectly adequate… nothing straying too far from my usual wardrobe of choice. But that damned smoky eye Allison convinced me to do… apparently it was in style… I just thought it was too much…

Stepping back, I turned around and pulled my black skinny jeans up some more, hoping it would make my butt appear a bit bigger.

"I'm coming in," Allison impatiently announced as I hoisted the girls up, making them fill out the gold sequined peplum quite nicely. "Oh my God… Charlie," she beamed.

"Too much?" I asked, honestly feeling very nervous.

I had never gone to a party before. Sure I dressed up for certain occasions, but something about tonight was giving me butterflies, and I didn't like it.

"Not at all!" she watched as I put on my dangly gold earrings and silver and gold bangles.

Slipping on my black booties, I struggled to clasp my silver wishbone necklace around my hair, fearing I'd crush the delicate curls.

"Sit down, I'll do it," Allison practically shoved me onto the toilet seat before I could even get one word out. "There," she beamed as a car horn sounded from outside.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Allison yelped: "Ah! That's him!"

Watching the girl fuss with her curled, dark brown hair, and reapply her red lipstick, I couldn't resist feeling a small twinge of excitement for her. She just seemed so happy. I just hoped Scott could keep his crap together and avoid ruining her night… or killing her…

"How do I look?" she voiced her insecurities, spinning around, causing her navy blue tea dress to elegantly twist along with her.

Examining her with a dissecting gaze, I cocked my head to the side and scrunched up my face.

"Mmm… I don't know," I furrowed my brows, causing Allison's eyes to widen anxiously. "I'm kidding!" I eventually broke, laughing over working her up. "You look beautiful…"

Face breaking out into the warmest of smiles, Allison's dimpled cheeks blushed: "You really think so?"

"Yeah, yeah, but don't get used to this whole complimenting thing," I shook off the soppy moment and got up.

"From you? Would never dream of it," she smiled teasingly. "Anyways, let's go," she merrily led the way towards the foyer.

Shooting me one last nervous look, Allison then opened the door and the two of us stepped out into the chilly night air, but rather than Scott sitting in the driver's seat, the grinning young wolf was sitting shotgun in some battered blue Jeep.

Opening the door, Scott McCall hopped out of the vehicle and opened the back door for Allison while profusely apologizing: "I'm _so_ sorry… my mom wouldn't let me borrow her car…"

Smirking at his gentlemanly gesture, Allison merely blushed and said that it was okay.

"Okay, yeah, sorry again," he grinned, clearly relieved that she was so laid back about the entire situation. "Hey, Charlie," he added, barely able to take his eyes off of the lovely Allison Argent.

Nodding my head, I cracked a small smirk before walking around towards the other back door. Having no date to give me the whole five star treatment, I slid into the back seat and finally noticed who our driver was.

Rather than an older relative, there sat Stiles, who seemed a bit more fidgety than usual.

"Hi, Stiles. Thanks for the ride," Allison greeted Scott's best friend.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he tried to seem genuinely happy about doing his friend a solid, but I could tell something was on the kid's mind.

"Oh, yeah. It's no problem. Not a problem at all," he turned the car back on, shooting Scott an odd glance.

Something was up. The whispering in class, and now this strange behavior… well stranger than how Stiles Stilinksi usually seemed to act anyways…

I didn't even mean to be staring at him, for my mind was replaying whether or not I really heard the word _lycanthrope_ come up in the two boys' conversation earlier that day, but after a moment or two, I finally realized that his light brown eyes were fixated on mine in the rearview mirror.

Flushing from embarrassment, I looked away instinctively, but as I stared out at the dark nighttime scenery, it hit me that I was actually the one squirming for once.

Clenching my jaw, I cursed the full moon for making my nerves get all out of whack, and then, clearing my throat, I found my resolve and looked back up to see if Stiles was still looking.

Happy to see that he was, I was even more excited to find that the moment our eyes met again, he jerked to face ahead and began tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio faintly playing in the background.

Feeling content that I had regained the upper hand over the perpetually edgy teenager, I then sat back and enjoyed the rest of the quiet drive to the party, my gaze fixated on the bright full moon in the starry sky above.

* * *

The music was loud. The trashed teenagers were loud. _Everything_ was loud.

My head pounded as dozens of side conversations, drunken laughter and shouts, rave music, and clanking glasses bounced around my brain, making it feel as if my skull would actually explode.

I wasn't drinking. Hadn't touched a drop in over a year, having sworn myself off the liquid drug after that night… and here I was, surrounded by a bunch of my inebriated and judgmental peers flaunting the effects of my old vice.

God, all I wanted was a cigarette… or better yet, some more pills.

I knew there were some stoners posted up in the Martin's living room, hitting bowl pack after bowl pack, but the moment I arrived, I was notified by the host that that group was considered socially unacceptable to sit with, unless you were buying booze off of them.

So there I stood, off to the side holding a cup filled to the brim with the beer I refused to touch, trying to tune out the migraine-inducing racket and keep an eye on Scott and Allison in the least creepy way possible.

They were standing over by the keg, grimacing over their shared drink, and I couldn't help but be entertained by how much they complained about the taste.

I was never a beer person myself, favoring whiskey over anything else, but as Derek always liked to remind me, my love of hard liquor was what got me into this position to begin with.

Stupid Derek… How could he have said that to me? Couldn't he see I literally hated myself for what happened?

"Charlie," a voice stopped me from replaying the fight I had just had with my older cousin.

Looking up, I was certainly surprised to see an intoxicated Jackson standing at an oddly close proximity to me.

"Jackson," I curtly responded, still staring across the pool at where Allison and Scott continued to flirt shamelessly.

"Go talk to Greenberg," he commanded, his hot, alcohol-scented breath wreaked havoc on my all ready heightened sense of smell.

Attempting not to make a face, I tried to cover my irritation over his dominating tone: "I'm sorry?"

"Go talk to him," he nodded over at a group of about five lacrosse players blatantly staring at me from across the pool.

"Why?" I looked up at the handsome, but arrogant blonde boy with a somewhat snotty look.

"Cause he likes you," he responded simply, finishing his cup of beer.

"Like me?" I snorted condescendingly. "He doesn't even _know _me."

"Does that matter?" he asked, and based on his expression, I could tell his idiotic response was completely heartfelt.

Rolling my eyes, I decided to change the subject: "Where's Lydia?"

Blinking a bit, the bombed captain of the lacrosse team peered around the party, his vision no doubt quite blurry.

"Ugh… I don't know…" he mumbled, suddenly quite interested in where his girlfriend had disappeared to.

"Why don't you go find her?" I suggested, hoping I could completely reroute this conversation and send his drunken ass on some other mission rather than pestering me.

"Um… yeah…" he stumbled away, every-so-often breaking up a conversation to find the strawberry blonde host of this over-the-top party.

Sighing with relief about shooing him away, my relaxed feeling was abruptly interrupted once I realized Scott and Allison had disappeared.

Shit.

If his heart rate went up, he could change in the middle of the party, not only blowing the lid off this whole 'werewolves exist' thing, but maybe even kill someone.

Strategically walking the long way around the pool so as to avoid Kyle and his friends, I stopped by the fire pit, straining my ears to hear the happy couple over the blaring music.

Then, thankfully, I spotted them, dancing innocently to some pop song I despised.

They looked happy as they laughed and teased one another on the makeshift dance floor, and I had to admit I was even a bit jealous of their naïve bliss.

My life had never been so simple. My dad ran off the second he impregnated my mom, providing a 'generous' check twice a year: one for Christmas and one for my birthday. My mom, however, was the best. Selfless, strong, and the most kind-hearted woman who never let the world sully her strong morals.

She was single-handedly the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that I had ever met… the most perfect human being to walk this Earth…

We shared 7 years full of love and laughter together.

Then cancer came along, destroying first her body and then taking her soul… leaving me without my best friend…

Playing with the necklace she had bought me for the last Christmas we shared together, I plopped down on a log beside the bonfire. Facing the flames, I positioned myself so that I could hear the obnoxiously cute couple's conversation without being too obvious.

Hearing both of them laughing merrily and flirting, I figured it was best that at least _someone_ was having fun at this stupid party…

The breeze picked up a bit, blowing the embers every-which-way, the glowing spots swirling in the air like fireflies.

My eyes followed them up into the starry sky, where they disappeared into the abyss of the evening sky, and I wondered what it would be like to just be a normal teenager, where my biggest issue was getting my heart broken and not about accidentally ripping out someone else's.

Brushing some hair out of my face, I looked down at the foamy beer in my hands, gently swirling in such an enticing way that I felt my mouth beginning to water.

Frowning at the temptation, I then proceeded to dump my beer in the grass as nonchalantly as possible.

"Pretty sure that's considered a party foul," a familiar voice startled me a bit.

Looking up, I felt my cheeks flush when I saw that Stiles had sat down on the log adjacent to mine.

"Oh really?" I muttered, playing with the red empty solo cup, ears still peeled for any signs of impending danger.

"Yeah… technically you should sit under a table the entire night, but I'm sure if I told the guys they'd make do a naked lap around the block instead," the lanky boy bounced his leg as he explained some of high school's ridiculous party rituals.

Eyeing him with a somewhat dangerous look, Stiles' light brown eyes shifted nervously, as he chuckled and scratched his neck: "But I mean, I'm gonna keep it to myself, _obviously_…"

Nodding my head in wary approval, Stiles flashed one of his gawky smiles before something caught his attention.

Equally as drunk, Lydia led her boyfriend by the hand to the dance floor, practically bumping into Stiles along the way.

Practically levitating off the log, the dorky teen stretched his all ready lengthy body even further, watching her disappear into the crowd and eventually falling onto the grass.

Popping up in a split second, he brushed himself off like nothing had even happened, and sat back down, but once he heard my snickering he turned back around.

"W-what?" he asked, cheeks a bit flushed, but not overly embarrassed either.

"Nothing," I shook my head, still smirking a little as I glanced over to the dance floor.

Scott and Allison had gotten substantially closer, and as the tempo of the music picked up, I felt I should turn around and focus on them more, knowing very well what swaying bodies could do to someone's heart rate.

"So… you're friends with Lydia right?" Stiles asked, staring at his crush as she grinded on Jackson.

Raising my brows, I responded honestly: "Wouldn't exactly call us friends."

"But she talks to you… I mean that's gotta mean something," he bit his nails as I absentmindedly picked at my own.

"_We're_ talking… does that make us friends?" I countered, looking at his seriously.

Making a thoughtful face, Stiles actually mused over my question for a moment or two, which I found oddly refreshing. Most people at this school automatically declared each other 'best friends' after sharing one lunch period together, and here he was, not falling into that shallow stereotype.

"I, ugh, I'd say we're acquaintances," he finally responded, eyes clearly worried I'd take offense to his honesty.

Shrugging, I agreed: "So that's what me and Lydia are then, too…"

"Yeah… you're right," his posture visibly slumped when he watched her beginning to make out with the brawny blonde.

I couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. A bit strange, yes, and definitely socially awkward, but he clearly wasn't a horrible person. And then there was Jackson, who I literally would've found any excuse to pound into tomorrow, winning the girl and running Beacon Hills.

God, high school was just brutally unfair.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" I asked, surprising myself about continuing the conversation for once.

Raising his brows, Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but sputtered over his words instead: "I… I talk to her… sometimes… like every once in a while…"

Cocking at brow at him, I visually let him know that I wasn't buying a single word he was trying to sell, causing Stiles to sigh: "I've said hi once or twice… even asked to borrow a pencil one day…"

"Jeese, and she didn't swoon after moves like that?" I responded sarcastically.

To my surprise, Stiles chuckled a little: "Oh, shut up. It's not like I see you putting yourself out there… people are gonna start to think you're antisocial."

"I am antisocial," I responded as if that were the most obvious observation to make in the world.

Stiles looked as if he were about to say something, but due to my unexpectedly blunt admission, he closed his mouth again.

"So how do you like Beacon Hills?" he changed the subject, still gazing at the dance floor, but this time, I noticed his anxious focus was on that of his best friend, further giving me the impression that Mr. Stilinski knew something…

"It's fine, I guess," I picked at my nails some more as I looked at Allison and Scott bumping and grinding, which even got my heart rate going by just watching

Christ, it had been a while since I got with someone…

"If I find it boring, you must be _dying_," he stated, barely even looking at me as he tapped his leg and watched his friend intently.

"I mean that murder was kinda interesting," I fished for a reaction, which I easily succeeded in.

Choking on the air, Stiles coughed and sputtered a bit, brown eyes now staring directly into mine.

"You okay? Did I say something?" I asked innocently.

Between coughs, Stiles managed to get out: "It's… just the… smoke," he waved at the crystal clear night air and caught his breath. Then he tried to ask casually: "So you heard about the murders?"

"Yeah, I mean it's all over town," I glanced back at the dance floor, noticing Lydia Martin currently staring Scott down _while_ she continued to make out with Jackson.

Disgusting…

"And what do you think?" Stiles asked with more focus than I had ever witnessed him have before.

Growing ill at the memory of seeing Laura's mangled body, I cleared my throat and tried to remain calm.

"Any theories?" Stiles pressed, eager to find someone who was just as interested in such a morbid topic.

"Could be a lot of things… psycho killer… animal…" I gazed up at the full moon, mind running through all the theories Derek and I had about the Alpha, "Something strong had to have done it to tear her apart like that."

"_What_?" Stiles asked, immediately making me realized I had slipped up... badly.

Shit.

"What do you mean what?" I tried to play it off, glancing back at the dance floor rather than his probing eyes. "You asked if I had any theories…"

"But… no one knows she was…" his gaze floated up to the full moon, but before Stiles could finish his sentence, our conversation was thankfully interrupted.

"Is Stilinski bothering you?" slurred Greenberg, who was now standing over us as Stiles continued to gawk at me, mouth slightly open.

"No," I responded flatly, gaze fixated on Scott and Allison, and then, something caught my attention on the roof of the neighbor's house.

A large animal stood in the shadows, peering down at the crowd of naively dancing teenagers.

Feeling my inner, primal beast bubbling up from inside me, I new this monstrous sized creature _had_ to be werewolf, but what struck me what how it actually looked like a wolf.

To my knowledge, Talia, Laura, and myself were the only werewolves in this area of the US who transformed into the full animal, and not some wolf-human-hybrid.

So who was this? And why was he or she so big? It had to be the Alpha…

"Charlie…" Kyle continued to call my name for what was probably a third or fourth time.

Glancing away from the roof, I stood up, ignoring Stiles' continuous suspicious gaze, and looked Kyle in his dumb, drunk face, snapping: "Stilinski is _not_ bothering me, but _you_ are… now if you excuse me…"

Dismissing myself and leaving both human teenagers to stare after me, I strode around the dance floor, eyes fixated on the now vacant roof.

Where did you go, you son of bitch?

Jaw clenched, my hands were balled up in tight fists as my pulse raced.

Head spinning, I turned around, scanning the party wildly.

Where are you? _Where are you_?

Then, catching something darting a few rooftops away, I saw it, but before I could chase after the mysterious wolf, a large hand grabbed my arm rather roughly.

Turning around, I was quite prepared to punch Greenberg in the face, but upon facing my assailant, I found that it was Derek who had kept me from hunting down my cousin's killer.

"What the Hell are you doing?" I hissed, eyes blazing as I stared into the darkness, knowing that I had just missed an opportunity to find out who the Alpha was.

"I could ask you the same thing," he growled, releasing me due to a couple of staring teens standing by the side of the house.

"I'm keeping an eye on Scott," I spoke sourly, arms folded.

"And making yourself a murder suspect," he voiced that he had overheard my slip-up.

Great. Just fricken great. Now Derek was going to get on my case about that too.

"It was just Stiles," I waved him off, but Derek's green eyes were furious.

"Do you know who his dad is? _Sheriff _Stilinksi."

Crap.

Running a hand through my hair, my mind raced as fast as my heartbeat.

"I'm sure he thought nothing of it," I mumbled, my chest tightening up.

"Thought nothing of it? Kid's been poking around our property, but sure, he'll think nothing of it," Derek snarled, looking over at the dance floor, searching for Scott McCall.

"Okay, I messed up, but you can rip me a new one later," I tried to blink away my growing migraine. "But the Alpha… he was here Derek…"

"I know," his voice was deep, face stoic.

"You know?" I asked in bewilderment. "So let's go after him!"

"No," he folded his arms sternly.

"_No_?" my eyes nearly bugged out of my skull, blood boiling as I began to sweat. "What do you mean 'no?' He killed Laura!" my voice grew deeper as an animalistic growl started to rumble up from within me.

"Charlie," Derek glanced from the full moon, now at its highest point in the sky, and then back to me, "You need to calm down…"

"Calm down?" everything began to go black and white, and I knew I was beginning to change. "How can you expect me to calm down when you just let him get away?"

"Charlie," Derek yanked me into the shadowy corner, "Get a grip… _now_…"

Trembling, all I wanted to do was bash his bossy face in, catch the scent of that Alpha, and rip its head off… taking out anyone who got in my way...

"Your eyes… and your teeth," he mumbled, his voice calmer than usual, for he knew yelling at me would only make it worse.

Chest pounding, I knew what I had to do.

I had been keeping my recent dependency on pills a secret, but I knew this could get bad. I was worked up, grieving yet _another_ lost family member, and all during a full moon.

Quickly searching my clutch, my shaking hands took out the small compact I kept spare pills in, and popped in one blue and one white one.

Closing my eyes, I bent over, trying to steady my breathing.

"What are those?" his authoritative voice was strained.

"Tic Tacks," I muttered, feeling nauseous, but calming down substantially.

"You're doing drugs?" I could hear his voice shaking. "I thought you learned your lesson, Charlie…"

Slowly rising, I glared at him: "I did!"

"You're getting high!" he barked back.

"You think I'm doing this for _fun_?" I tried my hardest to keep by voice low.

How could he not see I was just trying to keep my emotions in check… to keep them stunted and numb so I _wouldn't_ turn?

"Go home," he commanded, his handsome face now emotionless.

"Derek… come on, I'm fine now… I'm in control… look," I stepped in front of him, back to normal as I pleaded with him to be reasonable.

"I said _go home_, Charlie," he spoke firmly, green eyes looking at me as if I were a piece of garbage.

Feeling as if I were just slapped across the face, my eyes stung.

Backing away from him slowly, my eyes were glassy, but I just told myself it was from the drugs kicking in.

Running a shaky hand through my hair as I turned to leave, I saw Stiles still staring at me from across the dance floor, and my heart sank into my stomach.

Had he seen all of that? Did I just screw everything up? Dammit, Charlie! Derek's right… you're a mess. You're out of control… you're better off just locking yourself away…

Lump in my throat growing, I wished those light brown eyes would look away from me as I visibly felt myself crumbling, but they didn't.

Fighting back tears as I pushed my way through the crowd, I was suddenly grabbed by a frantic Allison.

"Charlie!"

Looking up, I tried to blink away my stinging tears, but then I found that she, too, was trying not to break down.

Face flushed, her expression was one mixed with confusion, embarrassment, and fear.

I immediately realized what must have happened, and glancing around I looked for Scott, but he was nowhere to be found, and catching Stiles sprinting out of the party, I figured the young wolf had bolted.

"He… he just ran off," she was trembling.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked, feeling oddly protective of the human.

"No?" she furrowed her brows, eyes still glassy. "We were just dancing and he just ran off…"

Relieved she didn't see anything, she and I made our way from the party and out onto the quiet front lawn.

"Maybe he just got sick? I wasn't feeling too well in there either," I spoke truthfully, and as she examined my honest face, Allison seemed to calm down a bit.

"Yeah… yeah, maybe you're right," she said, still obviously upset about being ditched. "But he just left. Didn't even say anything. What if he doesn't like me?"

Remembering how sexually they were dancing, I couldn't help but chuckle, cause his attraction to her was what actually caused this problem…

"Trust me… I don't think that's it," I replied with a smirk.

"I don't find this is funny, Charlie!" an insecure Allison Argent scolded me, but before I could offer her some solace, my cousin exited the back yard.

"Allison?" Derek asked, making us both turn around.

Brows furrowed, the brunette asked: "Yeah?"

"I'm Charlie's cousin," he explained, causing her to look at me as I glowered at the man in front of us. "I was supposed to drive her home, but Scott also asked me to take you since he got sick."

"How does Scott know you?" she asked suspiciously, and as my idiotic cousin tried to think up of an explanation, I spoke up.

"His dad was friends with Mrs. McCall when we all used to live around here," I stated, earning myself a somewhat thankful glance from Derek.

Ignoring it, I turned my back to him and asked Allison: "So… you want a ride home?"

"Ugh," she looked around, no doubt hoping to see if Scott was still around, but after a moment of thought, she responded: "Yeah. A ride would be awesome."

"Great," I said, pushing past my cousin to his black Camaro, "Let's go."

And as we sped away from Lydia's party, we passed a familiar blue Jeep, whose driver had been watching us the entire time.

* * *

I heard arguing from my hiding spot about a quarter mile away.

Derek had told me to stay home, and even went so far as to lock me in my room and cover up his scent as he returned to where he left Allison's jacket in the woods.

Continuing to take advantage of my cousin's ever-so-annoying trend of underestimating me, I easily hopped the two and half story drop from my window in complete silence and tailed him for about a mile, making sure to stay a decent distance away in case I needed to high tail it back to my bedroom.

So there I stood, shivering in the same outfit I wore to the party, remaining perfectly still and holding my breath, hoping my cousin would be preoccupied with his current conversation with Scott.

"Where is she?" Scott's demanding voice was deeper and throatier, signaling he had all ready transformed.

"She's safe from you," Derek gave his cryptic response.

I never understood why he couldn't just upright say he drove her home, but I guess he just really wanted some alone time with his new little cub scout.

Then I heard a small scuffle begin, and although I wasn't particularly worried about either of them getting severely hurt, my natural instincts forced me to move a few yards closer.

Peering into the darkness, I was able to make out their darkened shapes fighting one another, the larger of which successfully pinning the other to a tree.

Suddenly, however, Derek shushed Scott, covering his mouth.

Straining my ears, I knew my abilities were weaker, but from the sound of my cousin's heartbeat, I figured something serious had come up.

Scanning the forest, I didn't see much of anything… until I heard a small leaf crunch a hundred or so feet to my left.

"It's too late," Derek's voice was more agitated than usual, as my eyes surveyed the spot where I heard the noise. "They're all ready here…"

They? Who's 'they'?

"Run!" Derek immediately took off, leaving a confused and stunned Scott still propped up against the tree.

Before I could react, however, I saw the silhouettes of three figures holding crossbows and guns, rapidly approaching Scott

Waves of panic radiating throughout my body, I immediately knew that they were hunters.

I didn't think.

I just sprinted… bolted as fast as my two human legs could carry me, dodging trees and jumping over fallen logs, as I tried to get to the young werewolf in time.

A brilliant light suddenly lit up the forest, and in that split second, I saw Derek had transformed and was coming back to rescue Scott, but before either of us could reach him, McCall let out a loud shout, for an arrow had been shot through his arm, nailing him to the tree.

The middle-aged leader of the three hunters then stepped forward, raising his crossbow, fully prepared to take the teenager's life, but thankfully, a much faster Derek had tackled the man to the ground.

Now only a meter or so away, my eyes darted between my older cousin single-handedly fighting off the three hunters and a struggling Scott.

Making up my mind in a split-second, I dashed towards a wincing werewolf Scott, who was trying to pull out the arrow, which was deeply embedded in both the tree and his arm.

"Charlie?" he flinched, eyes wide with both shock and fear.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Derek was still successfully fending the hunters off, and without another word, I yanked the arrow straight out, causing Scott to roar in pain.

"Come on!" I yelled, dragging the practically frozen kid away from the fight.

"But…" he glanced behind him, clawed hand clutching his hemorrhaging arm, as we both sprinted into the darkness ahead.

"He'll be fine," I continued to drag him by his shirt collar. "This way!"

Diving through a dense thicket of bushes, Scott and I tumbled down a steep hill. Rolling down, our faces and limbs whipped against various branches, scratching us up and tearing our clothing, and as we reached the bottom, our sore bodies landed in a cool stream with a splash.

Panting, a human Scott and I could only merely look at one another as we tried to catch our breath, our lungs aching from the great distance we covered in such little time.

"W-what… how…" he gasped, but I had to cut him off.

"Sh!" I clamped my hand around his mouth, listening for any signs that we had been followed.

With nothing catching my attention, I sniffed the air, and as expected, the coast seemed clear.

Slowly lowering my hand, I looked at the young, confused, and still frightening teen, blood dripping from the deep wound in his arm.

"How did you find me?" he asked, but cold and still trying to keep my inner wolf at bay, I merely turned and started following rushing creek.

I heard him sigh and jog to catch up with me.

"What are you even doing here? Where are we?" he looked up at the thick canopy of overgrown trees concealing us from anyone else wandering the woods.

Inhaling deeply, I brushed my damp hair out of my face and muttered: "This is the back way to my place… we'll be safe in here…"

"Safe from _who_?" he persisted, looking at me intently as we marched along.

"Hunters," Derek suddenly appeared directly in front of us, his green eyes gazing disapprovingly at my shivering and wet frame.

Slipping off his leather jacket, he walked over and gruffly offered it to me: "So much for staying put…"

Putting my nose up in the air at it, I stubbornly turned my back to him, still upset over how harsh he had been with me at the party.

"Hunters? What do you mean hunters?" Scott's brown eyes glanced between the both of us.

"The kind that have been hunting us down for centuries," Derek explained, throwing his jacket over my trembling shoulders.

I knew he was trying to be nice. Maybe he felt bad, or maybe he was just thankful I disobeyed him and was able to bring Scott to safety. Regardless, I left his black leather jacket on, but still refused to even look at him.

"Hunting us…" Scott now focused solely on me. "Charlie… you're…"

"I'm a one too," I nodded, my tone sounding rather bored.

"But you didn't change," he observed, brows furrowed.

"Don't really like to," I shrugged, as all three of us slowly made our way back towards the house. "Not a fan of the fur, I guess," I tried to joke around and lighten the mood, but no one else seemed amused.

Getting into my cousin's face, an aggressive Scott snarled: "So you didn't just ruin _my_ life? You had to bite her too?"

Surprised over how protective he was, I felt I should pull the guy back before Derek ripped his head off.

"Whoa," I stepped between the two fuming werewolves. "Relax."

"Relax?" Scott eyed me in disbelief. "He turned us into monsters!"

"I've been this way for a while, Scott… Derek didn't turn me… and he didn't…" I tried to explain, but my older cousin spoke over me.

"You act like the Bite is a bad thing," his voice was harsh, eyes piercing. "You should be thankful."

"Thankful?" Scott's voice was shrill.

"Yeah, it's a gift," he stated matter-of-factly.

How just like Derek to gloat over what we were… always the proud wolf…

"You even said it yourself… your new abilities got you off the bench for lacrosse… got you the girl," my older cousin voiced a conversation he must have overheard.

Frowning, Scott seemed at a loss for words.

"But you need to learn to control it," Derek stepped forward, towering over the somewhat timid Scott McCall as I stood off to the side, listening intently for the hunters that were definitely still wandering the woods.

Thinking for a moment or two, there was a new fire behind Scott's eyes: "How? How do I control it?"

"Work with me and listen to what I say," Derek commanded, as I unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort.

Glancing at me with a harsh look, Derek ignored my blatant disrespect while Scott eyed me just as closely.

"You and me… we're brothers now," my older cousin's words, though welcoming, held a sinister tone to them as he placed a hand on Scott's shoulder, and from the look on the young werewolf's face, I could tell he wasn't too sure how to feel about this whole situation, and I really couldn't blame him.


	4. Chapter 4

**WOW! Can I just say all of the support this far into the story is amazing! To hear a lot of you like Charlie and think she's worth reading about is literally some of the best news I could have gotten! I can't wait for more feedback, and welcome any suggestions, as well! Okay, well I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT! :D**

**FOUR: AIN'T NO REST FOR THE WICKED**

"His _cousin?"_ Stiles Stilinski's voice was shrill as he asked for clarification for the fourth time.

"Yeah… even double-checked the class rosters… Charlotte Hale is definitely Derek's cousin," Scott responded, making me cringe at the sound of my full name from my spot on the bleachers.

"How did we miss that?" Stiles asked, as he and his best friend tried to nonchalantly glance over at my seat between Lydia and Allison.

"I don't know," Scott shrugged, the both of them continuing with their pre-practice stretches.

"Well do you think she's dangerous?" Stiles asked, and I could hear the trepidation in his voice.

"I mean she didn't seem it," McCall replied after a moment of thought.

"But she's a werewolf… _and_ the cousin of some psycho killer," Stilinski reminded his best friend, and as I pretended to be engrossed in my game of Angry Birds, I couldn't help but exhale in slight frustration.

Why the Hell did I care if some dorky kid thought I was bad news? I mean, I should be used to it by now, shouldn't I?

"She did save my life," Scott pointed out, but I could still hear the reluctance in his voice.

"Okay, so maybe she's not a killer," Stilinski gave in before quickly adding: "but she _has_ to know something about the murder… I mean you should've heard her at the party…"

Dammit… I knew I gave myself away…

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, voice dropping as Jackson, Danny, and Kyle all walked passed them.

"She knew the body was torn in half," Stiles voice was rushed and excited. "And then she was arguing with Derek before he drove her and Allison home…"

"So…"

"So I'm thinkin' she knows what Derek did… and that makes her an accomplice…"

Snorting in disbelief at how absolutely stupid those two teenage boys were, I temporarily forgot where I was, for the moment I started chuckling, a confused Lydia and Allison shot me odd looks.

"What's so funny?" the strawberry blonde bombshell asked, brows raised.

"Oh," I glanced between the two of them. "Nothing… just ugh… just thought of something… that's all," I lied, brushing some hair out of my eyes as the wind picked up a bit.

Still staring at me oddly, Lydia and Allison giggled, deciding to chalk it up to my awkward, home-schooled nature, which I gladly allowed them to think.

"What I'm worried about is Allison," Scott redirected the conversation to the absolutely dull topic of high school relationships, and I was about to tune out until Stiles muttered a response that took every ounce of self-control I had to not gasp out loud.

"About what? You blowing the second chance she's giving you, or the fact that her dad tried to kill you last night?"

Breath hitching, I felt panic sweep over me.

What was that little twerp talking about?  
"Okay, stupid question," Stiles nodded his head after Scott shot him an incredulous look. "Do you think he recognized you?"

"N-no… I don't think so," McCall replied nervously. "At least I don't think he did… Oh, God! What if he did? What if he knows?" his panicked voice began to speak faster and faster, and as his heart rate increased, mine did as well.

"I'm sure he didn't," Stiles tried to ease his friend's mind, but even his tone was one of doubt.

"He's gonna kill me, man…"

"Do you think Allison knows her dad's a hunter?" Stiles voiced the question I had internally asked myself.

And glancing nervously at the beautiful brunette merrily chatting away with Lydia, I felt my stomach knot up as a cold sweat swept over me.

Picking at my nails, I gnawed on my lip, my palms sweaty.

"I don't know!" Scott's voice was shrill, causing Stiles to shush him.

"Okay, okay. Dude, relax…"

"I… I can't _relax_," Scott's heart was pounding as loud as a drum and I could tell he was going to lose control.

"Scott… Scott!" Stiles grabbed his best friend's helmet, forcing him to look at him. "Calm down! Just think about… just think about lacrosse!"

"Lacrosse," Scott repeated dumbly.

"Yes!" Stiles spoke excitedly. "Yes! Just think about lacrosse! Focus on practice…"

"O-okay," number 11's breathing was shaky, but I could tell he was slowly getting a grip.

And as the whistle blew, signaling the start of their practice, I slowly rose from my seat, my own head now spinning.

"Wait, Charlie, where are you going?" Allison grabbed my arm as I shakily went to climb down the cold bleachers.

"I, ugh, I need to go home," I muttered, unable to even look at her.

I hated hunters. They destroyed the only family I had left, and now Allison's _dad_ was one?

Did Derek know?

Oh, God… if Derek found out… no, I'd keep my mouth shut about it for the time being…

Allison was a good person. She didn't deserve to have her dad be brutally murdered by some mysterious monster… unless… unless she was all ready a hunter…

What if she was a hunter? What if she knew what we were?

"Charlie!" Lydia's impatient voice sharply interrupted my frantic thoughts.

"I… I just need to go home," I mumbled, stumbling a bit as I continued down the bleachers, ignoring the two teenage girls standing and staring after me with looks of both confusion and worry.

"Are you okay?" Allison rushed down to the steps after me, grabbing my slightly woozy form.

"Y-yeah," I lied, looking at her as my heart raced, head aching terribly. "I just feel sick…"

"I could take you home," she offered, but I just backed away, trying to smile but failing miserably.

"N-no… I'm okay. I'm fine… I just… I just gotta go," I brushed her generous offer off rather coldly, but I couldn't help it.

Feeling a panic attack coming on, I needed to get out of there, and as I strode away rather briskly, I saw numbers 11 and 24 staring at me from the line as they waited to do their drills.

How could this happen? How could I have not put two-and-two together?

I hated hunters, but I genuinely liked Allison… as much as I _could_ like someone. She was kind and a good friend… but hunters were conniving liars that would manipulate anyone to get to a werewolf…

I mean look at what happened between Derek and Kate…

Shit. This was bad. Very, very bad…

Unsure of what to think, I stumbled a few yards down the shortcut to my home and propped myself up against a large tree, bending over and dry-heaving.

Hand shaking, I took two extra Xanax and Vicodins.

This couldn't be happening…

Why was everything spinning out of control?

I knew what Derek was going to want me to do. Hell, I usually was the first one to suggest such a thing!

Hunters were ruthless and didn't care whether or not the werewolf they were hunting was good or bad. They just saw us as beasts that needed to be exterminated.

The only way to survive was to kill them before they killed us, but Allison Argent?

Feeling the panic slowly melting away, I leaned my back against the thick trunk, eyes closed and hands on my head as I breathed deeply.

My moment of drug-induced serenity was short-lived, however, for just around the bend I heard a loud commotion going on.

What now?

Lightly jogging over, I peered from my hiding spot in the thin line of trees before the clearing of the field, hoping it was a false alarm, but just my luck, I saw Jackson Whittemore writhing in pain, the entire team gathered around him… everyone except two teenage boys.

Eyes scanning the frantic scene, I then saw number 11 hunched over, with number 24 at his side, arm wrapped around his rounded back.

Listening, I tried my hardest to ignore the worried voices of concerned lacrosse players, coaches, and fans asking whether or not Jackson was okay and to give him space.

Then, after hearing someone shout to call an ambulance, I saw Scott and Stiles stagger off the field and towards the locker room, all the while Stiles' anxious voice repeating over and over: "Scott… Scott, breathe… breathe, buddy…"

Sensing how dangerous this situation was becoming, I took off, taking the long way so as to avoid running past the crowd of all ready panic-stricken humans.

Tapping into my supernatural speed, I sprinted the distance with ease, but the moment I got to the door of the boys locker room, I heard the sounds of a young werewolf trying to tear apart his best friend.

Bursting into the room, I saw a fully shifted Scott scaling the ceiling and herding the panicked and wide-eyed Stiles into the corner.

Scuttling under the benches, the terrified boy with light brown eyes called out pleadingly: "Scott! Scott! Stop!"

But as his friend merely emitted a beast-like snarl and leapt down from the ceiling and over a row of lockers, backing him into the corner, I knew Scott had fully lost control.

Without thinking, I scaled the ceiling and bound over two rows of lockers, getting to the rabid wolf just in time to tackle him to the ground.

Stunned and cowering in the corner, Stiles' eyes frantically looked around the room as I struggled to detain his crazed best friend.

"Scott! Calm down!" I yelled, but due to my refusal to turn, I was easily knocked off.

Backing up, I tried to stifle my aggression. One out of control werewolf was enough, let alone two.

So, hands up and at the ready, I hoped some of my self-defense classes and inhuman strength and agility would be enough to defend myself.

With his yellow eyes glowering at me, he snarled furiously, and as he lunged, I was able to dodge the claws aimed at my throat.

Grabbing his arms, I flipped him over my body, falling in the process.

"Scott, stop!" Stiles shouted, taking his friend's attention off of me.

And as Scott McCall advanced towards his now petrified friend, Stiles clearly regretted opening his mouth.

"Shit…" he breathed.

Diving out of the way, Stilinski ducked just in time to miss the bench Scott tossed at him, and just as the werewolf was about to pounce, I jumped onto his pack, knocking him into the lockers and denting them in the process.

Back pressed up against the wall and arms shielding his face, Stiles frantically looked around for something to help fend off his blood-thirsty friend.

Body tossed clear across the room and into the benches like a mere rag-doll, I felt a sharp pain in my arm.

Looking down, I saw a piece of metal had punctured my bicep, tearing my leather jacket and causing a small pool of blood to form.

Murderous yellow eyes focused on my weakened body as I gripped my throbbing arm, I looked past the approaching Scott, to where a quaking Stiles stood bravely behind, a large fire extinguisher in his hands.

Eyes widening, I knew what he was going to do and couldn't help but think how stupid this kid was. If I was struggling to detain Scott, what made him think a puny human could come to the rescue?

"Scott!" he shouted, making the werewolf stop in his tracks, and as he turned with a beast-like roar to assault his friend, Scott received a face-full of extinguishing fluid.

Flailing, Scott stumbled backwards, giving me time to get up and run over to Stiles.

Fluid running out, I grabbed the kid's jersey and yanked him into the office while the werewolf was still temporarily blinded and disorientated.

And as I slammed the door shut, I couldn't help but snarkily comment: "You couldn't just knock him out with that thing?"

Panting, a shaken Stiles glanced from me to the blunt object that he was clutching to for dear life, and muttered: "I… I didn't think of that…"

Going up on his tip-toes, Stiles strained to peer out the window as we waited in silence for any sign of movement, and before I could ask him if he could see anything, Scott McCall's dazed voice called out: "Stiles?"

Glancing at me with an uncertain look, we both slowly stepped out of the office to find a human Scott shaking as he stared around at the trashed room.

Looking from my bleeding arm and bruised face to Stiles' wide, rattled eyes, the new wolf asked with a look of confusion and slight horror: "W-what happened?"

"You… you, ugh, tried to kill me… that's what," his best friend slowly walked towards him, as I examined my pulsating arm.

Knowing it would heal relatively soon, I wasn't as upset about the injury as I was about the ripped leather jacket.

The thing was vintage for Christ's sake!

"I what?" Scott asked, looking both bewildered and disturbed.

"You don't remember?" Stiles asked, brows raised as he glanced back at me for answers.

"It's common for newbies," I frowned, tugging at the massive tear in my sleeve.

Realizing I must have seemed quite impassive over the whole traumatizing situation, I glanced back up at the two teenagers' gawking faces.

"You just need to get in control of your emotions," I explained with a sigh.

"It's like I told you," Stiles turned back to his speechless and ashamed friend. "It happens when you're pulse goes up… like from stress or anger… that's the trigger…"

"But that's lacrosse," Scott voiced the obvious, causing me to roll my eyes. "It's a pretty violent game if you didn't notice…"

No shit, Sherlock…

"Well it's gonna get a lot more violent if you kill someone on the field," Stiles reasonably countered.

"He's right," I spoke up. "You shouldn't play Saturday."

Nodding, Stiles added: "You need to get out of the game."

Turning to look at me and his best friend with a distraught look, Scott McCall practically whined: "But…"

"Do you know what Derek will do if he finds out about this? I'll give you a hint… it won't be pretty," I cut off the irrational teen.

Why couldn't he see playing in some silly game wasn't worth outing the entire werewolf community, drawing the attention of hunters, and getting someone killed?

Boys…

"Guys," his brown eyes were pleading. "I'm _first_ line…"

"Not anymore," I shook my head firmly.

Glancing to Stiles for help with convincing me otherwise, his friend merely looked down and mumbled: "I don't think it's the best idea to play…"

Looking conflicted, Scott then let out an irritated grunt after me and Stiles continued to look him hard in the face, and as he stood up and stormed off, I knew he wasn't going to bow out quietly.

"Scott!" Stiles called after him, stopping to watch his furious best friend stomp towards the bike rack.

Staring after him, I could tell Stilinski was debating whether or not to let him go cool off or chase after him, but as I walked passed him out of the locker room, he did a double take and energetically rushed after me.

"Hey! Hey! Wait," his voice was strained and hurried.

Slipping off my black jacket with a slight wince, I slowed my pace, allowing him to catch up to me, and as I sorrowfully examined the damage in the sunlight, I knew that this was the end of my beloved leather coat.

Feeling his eyes on me, I then glanced at his gaping face, gaze fixated on the massive slice to my bicep that was still bleeding rather profusely and staining my loose gray tee shirt.

"That looks bad," he muttered, face paler than usual.

He would be squeamish…

Smirking, I knew I get _some_ fun out of this horrible day.

"You think?" I asked, pushing it closer to his face, immediately making a disgusted Stiles flinch away uneasily.

"Ugh… maybe you should go get that looked at," he looked as if he were about to throw up or pass out… I really couldn't tell which.

Grinning, I shrugged and responded: "Eh, it's fine. It'll be healed by tonight…"

Raising his brows in surprise, he looked from the grisly gash and then back up to my completely unphased face.

"You heal fast… cause you're a werewolf, right?" he asked with a somewhat tentative tone of voice.

Looking at him with a cocked brow, I was intrigued that he had the balls to simply call me out on it, and although he appeared to be standing his ground, I could hear his heart pounding nervously in his chest.

Stopping to look him square in the face, I spoke frankly: "Yeah. Kinda comes with the territory."

"W-what?" he exclaimed, obviously not expecting such an outright confession as he bounced back a foot or two, "H-how can you _admit_ that?"

"Cause I am?" I responded, brows raised like it was the most common thing in the world.

"But that's not something you just openly admit!" he spoke incredulously.

"I'm sure Scott told you anyway, and it's not like you're gonna rat out your best friend," I gave my reasoning as I began to walk again. "Just don't see you as much of a threat, I guess…"

Scrambling to catch back up with me, the animated teen then mused out loud: "Unless I only tell someone about you and Derek…"

Shooting him a dangerous look, Stiles laughed nervously and quickly responded: "Which I would _never_ do…"

Pursing my lips, I stepped forward and looked up at him with a harsh expression.

Gulping a bit, Stiles tried not to wince under my scrutinizing gaze, but I could tell I was shaking his resolve.

"Good boy," I smiled somewhat menacingly as I patted his shoulder, and the instant I made contact, Stiles involuntarily let out a fearful whimper and tensed up.

Devious crooked smirk plastered on my face, I thoroughly enjoyed intimidating the kid who was now apprehensively chuckling.

Taking a step back, I then turned and as I walked away, I called over my shoulder: "See you around, Stilinski… and control your friend… or that won't be the only werewolf problem you'll be having to deal with."

Then, hearing him swallow nervously, a satisfied smile spread across my face.

That was _way_ too easy…

* * *

Arm still terribly sore, I opted out of coming home and facing my irritating older cousin, choosing to let the wound heal and dodge the uncomfortable conversation altogether.

I had been avoiding Derek since the night of Lydia's party, and although I'm sure he felt guilty for being so unjustifiably rude to me, I knew the man was beyond stubborn and would never actually apologize.

So, with a lot on my mind all ready, I enjoyed the peace and quiet as I sat in the old oak tree I used to climb as a kid, reading Stephen King's 'The Shining'.

Oddly enough, reading psychologically messed up stories made me feel better. In a demented way, it gave me reassurance that someone else had such sick and twisted thoughts floating around their brains, too.

Fully immersed in my reading, I did not even notice that a boy on a bike had just zoomed passed me, heading straight towards the charred remains of my old home.

Not until I heard irate yelling did I finally realize something was amiss.

"DEREK!" Scott McCall's voiced echoed throughout the silent woods, startling me to a point where I almost took a tumble off of the limb that I was sitting on.

"Derek! I know you're home! Come out!" Scott yelled.

Closing my book, I hopped down the two-story drop and strode over to our overgrown front yard to find Scott screaming into my older cousin's sour face.

"Stay away from her!" the young wolf barked, whilst Derek clenched his jaw, trying to remain calm. "She doesn't know anything!"

"Yeah?" he shot back. "What if she does? You think your little buddy Stiles can just Google werewolves and now you got all the answers? Is that it?" he voice was aggressive as he challenged Scott.

Walking over to them, I demanded: "Whoa, guys… what the Hell is going on?"

"He needs to stay away from Allison," Scott barely took his blazing eyes off my older cousin.

"He can't get it through his thick head that I'm looking out for him!"

Glaring at one another, I, again, found myself wedging my body between the two enraged sacks of testosterone.

"Scott, just think about what could happen. You're aggression takes over and you shift in front of everyone… your mom, your friends, Allison… everything doesn't just fall apart… you could really do something you'll regret for the rest of your life," I spoke sincerely, gazing into his dark brown eyes with an almost beseeching expression as the memories of my dark past flooded my mind.

Unsure of how to take my unexpectedly passionate plea for him to reconsider his priorities, Scott merely blinked at me with furrowed brows.

Then, after momentarily being distracted by my little speech, Scott looked past me and suddenly began looking around.

Turning around, I saw what he was so confused about: Derek was gone.

"Where'd he go?" Scott's stormy attitude was back in full-force.

"He does that…" I muttered, and as the agitated teenager gruffly grabbed his bike, I called after him: "Scott… can you just think for a minute here…"

Giving me one last harsh look, his chocolate brown eyes then drifted to my still healing arm, softening his disposition as his facial expression melted into one of apologetic guilt: "Bye, Charlie."

And then he rode off, leaving me standing in the chilly air, an odd nagging feeling anxiety making my stomach churn.

Ordinarily I loved a little chaos, but deep down I knew that the pandemonium the would inevitably ensue was not going to be enjoyable… not at all…

* * *

"You should've come home and told me right away," Derek scolded me from the driver's seat of his black Camaro as we sped down the dark road.

"Why? It's not gonna change anything," I responded dryly, arms crossed as I stared out the window.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, my older cousin continued to stare darkly out the window.

"I knew I recognized that guy," he mumbled.

"Yeah, well let's hope he won't recognize _us_," I responded, checking my now fully healed wound.

"We're gonna have to do something about this before it becomes a problem," his voice was threatening.

Glancing at his frowning face, I felt I needed to say something: "A-are you sure you wanna do that? We don't even know what they know…"

"It's only a matter of time… you know that," he shot me a perplexed look, clearly uncertain as to why I seemed to be on the fence about our usual way of dealing with dangerous hunters.

"I know, but Allison's different," I mused out loud, avoiding his disapproving stares.

"That's cause she's not a hunter yet, but the second they tell her, don't think she won't turn into the rest of them," he said forebodingly.

"I just think we should play it cool for a little while longer," I suggested, earning myself an even harsher look from my cousin.

"What's gotten into you?" he demanded with a frustrated tone. "Don't tell me you of all people are starting to _feel_ something for them… they're hunters..."

"I'm not," I shot him a dirty look. "Okay, it's not like a trust her, and if things go downhill, we'll do what we need to… I just think we got a lot on our plate right now with some Alpha running around and Scott wolfing out every other second… we don't need to add an all-out war with the Argents on top of it…"

Green eyes probing mine, I could see the wheels in Derek's head turning, and although he was clearly unhappy about agreeing with me, my older cousin realized that what I stated was indeed true.

Sighing, he looked ahead and grumpily grumbled: "Fine. We'll leave it alone… _for now_… but the second that girl and her family start to be a serious problem…"

"I'll deal with it like I always do," I cut him off, tone of voice and expression firm.

And although I appeared stoic and emotionless at the prospect of possibly having to kill Mr. Argent, and maybe even Allison, in reality, I felt absolutely ill.

What the Hell was happening to me? Was I going soft?

Turning down our shadowy driveway, Derek turned off the car, both of us wearily dragging our bodies up the creaky porch steps.

We had spent the whole night fruitlessly tracking the Alpha, and as the rising sun was slowly peaking through the surrounding trees, we both yawned in unison.

But upon inhaling, I stopped in my tracks.

"What?" he asked, pausing as he unlocked the front door.

I never understood why he kept the house locked up… no one in their right mind would want to steal anything from in there, let alone step inside. The damned place looked haunted…

"I… I don't know. I smell something," I sniffed the air, brows furrowed as I concentrated.

I recognized the scent, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

It was sweet… with a hint of a minty aroma...

"Do you think it's the Alpha?" my older cousin thoughtlessly asked, inhaling deeply himself.

"Don't be stupid," I mocked him as I slowly climbed back down the porch, making my way to the side of the house.

"Well what is it, genius?" he shot back, the lack of sleep making him more ill tempered than usual.

"It smells like… I don't know… maybe air freshener… or a breath mint?" I ventured, and as we walked past the grave of my recently buried late cousin, I stopped.

The ground was overturned, the grave obviously having been disturbed, and as I looked down at Laura's mangled body, I heard Derek yell in anger.

"Someone took the wolfsbane," his eyes flashed with rage.

Looking around angrily, I saw that my cousin was correct, for the rope we used to conceal my beloved cousin's identity had been yanked up.

"Where have you smelt that before?" he demanded, his voice shaking murderously.

"I don't know," I said in frustration, and then spotting the familiar sight of flashing blue and red lights, I muttered: "But I think that's the least of our worries…"

Following where my eyes were now anxiously focused, Derek's green ones narrowed as about five police cars quickly approached our home.

"Get out of here," he growled, the veins popping out of his thick neck.

"But…"

"I'll handle this," he cracked his knuckles before looking at me with the sternest of faces: "Just go, stay hidden, and keep quiet…"

Then, giving my only living relative one last reluctant look, I nodded and quickly took off until the blaring sound of sirens was safely in the distance.


	5. Chapter 5

**AHH! You guys! I'm speechless! Just utterly speechless! The support is awesome! Every time I come on here, I have more follows, favorites, reviews, and even a couple PMs! I literally can't even wrap my mind around it! Thank you all who are supporting this story and actually taking time out of your day to read some little fanfiction story! And I'm glad some of you are really intrigued by Charlie! Anyways, thanks for the support, and I hope y'all like this one! - comment if yah got the time! NOW READ ON! :)**

***** OH! and forgot to add: I ONLY OWN MY OC! The rest of Teen Wolf and its characters and plot is from the genius mind that is Jeff Davis!**

**FIVE: MAD WORLD**

Straining my eyes from my spot in the treetops, I watched in frustration as my older cousin was thrown against the cop car and patted down rather roughly.

Sure, Derek and I always butted heads, and most of the time we were at each other's throats… there were even times when I seriously contemplated killing him in his sleep, but he was the only family I had left, and having to just sit back and watch him getting unjustly arrested made my blood boil.

Slapping a pair of thick handcuffs on his wrists and shoving him into the back of the Sheriff's squad car, I felt my protective nature taking over.

Derek was a pain in the ass, but he didn't deserve this. He was innocent…

Then, inhaling deeply in an effort to keep my emotions in check, I smelt it. That same sweet, minty aroma that had led us to Laura's dug up grave wafted up to my nostrils.

And as an animalistic and enraged growl rose up from deep within my chest, my narrowed eyes spotted Scott and Stiles hopping out of the familiar blue Jeep a few yards from my home.

No longer seeing in color, my clawed hands gripped the bark of the tree as if I were strangling those two _idiots_.

Jumping down the two-story drop, I stealthily made my way to the large evergreen bushes that lined our property, and crouching low to the ground, my murderous gaze was intently on both teenage boys, mouthing some sort of disagreement they were having.

I was going to approach them if it weren't for Stiles suddenly taking off, leaving an anxious Scott to call after him.

"Wait! Stiles!" McCall's voice was hushed as he and I watched the overly energetic teen rush to the squad car containing Derek, his light brown eyes keeping close tabs on where his father unknowingly stood.

What a dumbass… I hoped that Derek would break loose and teach that little twerp a good lesson…

Much to my disappointment, however, the second Stiles slid into the passenger seat and shut the door behind him, the only thing Derek did was inhale deeply, keeping his flared up temper in check.

"Oh God," I heard Scott mutter, his chocolate brown eyes shifting to the oblivious police force combing over the grounds of my charred home.

"Okay, s-so just so you know… I'm not scared of you," Stiles' hurried voice stated as he looked at my fuming cousin through the thin metal grate separating the two of them.

Green eyes looking up with the most deadly look I had ever witnessed on my cousin, I heard Stilinski's heart practically stop as his eyes shifted nervously.

"Okay… maybe I am," he admitted, "Doesn't matter… I just wanna ask you something."

Examining my cousin's harsh face, Stiles breathlessly continued, his face pressed eagerly against the grate: "That girl you killed… she was a werewolf, too… but she was a different kind… wasn't she?"

Derek's silent, irate glower was his only response, causing the twitchy boy with short brown hair to lick his lips and blabber on: "I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can't do that…"

"Why are you so worried about me when your friend is the problem?" Derek's deep, throaty voice interrupted the teenager. "When he shifts on the field… which he will… what do you think they're gonna do? Just keep cheering him on?" his eyes were narrowed, face dead serious. "I can't stop him from playing… but you can… and trust me… you're gonna want to."

And as Stiles opened his mouth to respond, only a startled yelp was emitted from his stunned face as his body was torn out of the cop car.

Closing the door with a slam, there stood an irritated Sheriff Stilinski, eyeing his now nervously smirking son.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" the handsome man with graying brown hair and pale green eyes demanded.

"I-I'm just trying to help," Stiles shrugged innocently, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets.

"Okay, well how about you help me understand how you came across this, exactly," Sheriff Stilinski folded his arms, face stern.

"We were looking for Scott's inhaler," the cop's son replied.

"Which he dropped _when_?" the officer raised his brows.

"The other night," Stiles responded simply, completely unaware that he was blowing his own cover.

"The other night when you were out here looking for the other half of the body?" he nodded slowly.

"Yes!" his son gestured excitedly, clearly glad his father was following.

"The night you told me you were alone and Scott was at home…"

"Yes!" Stiles hopped a bit, but suddenly his wide smile fell. "Wait, no… um… crap…"

"So you lied to me," the sheriff raised his brows in vexation.

"That, ugh, depends on how you define lying," Stiles chuckled uneasily.

"Well I define it as not telling the truth," his father responded seriously. "How do you define it?"

Puffing out his flushed cheeks and rocking on the balls of his feet, Stiles ventured with a weak smirk: "Um… reclining your body in a horizontal position?"

Although I would have ordinarily found this situation to be quite humorous, I was still furious at the teenager being scolded by his father, and as Sheriff Stilinski grunted: "Get the Hell out of here," sending his son springing back towards his Jeep with his tail between his legs, all I wanted to do was rip the gawky dork a new one myself.

Watching the two boys hop back into the Jeep and take off, I glanced back at the cop car containing my cousin.

Green eyes staring back at me with a strong look of disapproval, I knew that Derek was peeved I disobeyed him and didn't high tail it out of there, but tough shit. He was my cousin, and I wasn't just going to sit by and watch his arrest at a safe distance. My strong sense of loyalty would not allow it.

So, giving him one last look, I took off to follow the two boys that got my only living family member wrongly accused of murder.

* * *

"I can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial," Scott's strained voice sighed.

"Just keep looking," Stiles focused on the rocky road through the woods, his blue Jeep speeding at break-neck speed and making my job of tracking the two of them much more tiresome.

Panting as I bound from tree-top to tree-top, I huffed and puffed, not having exorcised this much self-control over my abilities in a while.

I was halfway through transition, my eyes no doubt an icy blue hue as I leapt from branch to branch with my razor sharp claws.

Grunting with a deep predatory voice, I focused on the careening car below, and the conversation going on.

My pulse raced as my heart pounded against my chest, and all I wanted to do was jump down on top of the Jeep and tear them apart for what this did to Derek… for what they did to my _family_, but I knew acting so rashly would only draw more attention from the hunters, so I tried to think of the task at hand.

"Maybe it's like a ritual or something, like maybe they bury you as a wolf," Stiles mused out loud, while Scott continued to fidget uncomfortably beside him. "Or maybe it's like a special skill, you know?" he barely glanced at his best friend as he rattled off more theories at a mind-numbing speed. "Like something you gotta learn…"

"I'll put that on my to-do list… right under figuring out how the Hell I'm gonna play in tonight's game," Scott muttered back.

I could hear his heart pounding, and with my heightened sense of smell, I knew the cause of his sudden discomfort.

Stiles had stupidly kept the wolfsbane in the car, totally unaware of what having such a plant so close to werewolf would do.

Idiots… didn't anyone _ever_ do their research?

"Maybe it's different for girl werewolves," Stiles continued, completely oblivious of his ill friend sweating profusely in the seat next to him.

"Okay! Stop it!" Scott barked, his body tensing up as the wolfsbane was starting to force him to change.

"Stop what?" the boy with large, light brown eyes asked, brows furrowed.

"Saying 'werewolves'! Stop enjoying this so much," McCall growled, gripping the seat tightly and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to slow down his racing pulse.

Glancing at his struggling companion, Stiles asked: "Are you okay?"

"NO! No, I'm not okay!" Scott hissed dangerously, "I'm so _far_ from okay!"

I knew that he was going to lose control soon, but his best friend was apparently much more thick than I originally thought: "You know… you're gonna have to accept this, Scott… sooner or later."

"I can't," his voice was deeper and more beast-like.

"Well, you're gonna have to," Stilinski responded, totally unaware of how bad this was going to get.

"NO! I can't breathe!" Scott gasped frantically.

"What?" Stiles now glanced at his friend, face full of alarm.

Shouting out in pain as he was slowly turning, Scott demanded: "Pull over!"

"Why? What's going on?" he almost swerved off the road while Scott rummaged through his backpack.

Unzipping it, Scott cried out in panic: "You kept it?"

Equally as worked up, Stiles raised his brows, eyes wide and shouted back: "What was I supposed to do with it?"

Shaking, and heart pounding louder than I had ever heard it before, Scott yelled, eyes turning bright amber-ish yellow: "Stop the car!"

"Okay, okay!" a frightened Stiles slammed on the break, making the Jeep screech to a halt.

Leaping out of the vehicle and grabbing the backpack, Stiles Stilinski then launched the bag as far away from them as possible, the distance he gained even impressing me a little.

"Okay," he panted, watching it fall a great ways away from them. "We're good… Scott?" Stiles slowly turned to find the Jeep completely empty. "Scott?"

Having seen the recently turned wolf take off, I knew Derek would have wanted me to follow him and make sure he didn't get into trouble, but the second Scott was gone, I realized that the sweet, minty scent was not coming from the young wolf, but rather his best friend who was currently circling around calling out for the long-gone Scott McCall.

Primal rage bubbling up inside of me, I couldn't think straight.

That smell… the one left behind by the person that dug up Laura's grave… the one that got Derek arrested… it was coming from the boy pacing just below me.

Before I could stop myself or think twice, I jumped from the tree and silently landed behind the boy unlocking the door to his Jeep.

Obviously seeing someone standing behind him from the reflection in the window, Stiles Stilinski tensed up and slowly turned.

Light brown eyes landing on my irate, fuming form, he immediately flinched backward with a surprised and somewhat frightened yelp.

Back pressed against the driver's side door, the boy's flush face chuckled nervously as I took one, slow, predatory step towards him.

"Charlie… y-you scared me," the teen chuckled breathlessly, but when all I did was give him a steady, irate glower, Stiles' nervous grin faded.

Opening his mouth to say something, nothing came out for as he took in my unnatural, icy blue eyes, fangs, and claws, all he could manage to emit was a loud gulping noise.

"L-listen, I know what you're thinking," his words were fast, hands up in defense.

"Really?" I hissed, stepping up into his personal space. "I _highly_ doubt that."

Light brown eyes shifting every-which-way, he glanced for a way to escape, which I immediately spoke up and warned him against.

"Don't even think about it," I growled, my black and white gaze never leaving his petrified face.

"Listen… I… we… we didn't tell them anything about the whole… wolf thing," he said honestly, and as I heard his panicked heart racing, I knew he wasn't lying.

"No… you just got my cousin arrested for murder," I spat, voice quaking dangerously.

Last time I ever saved this little dork's sorry ass… or Scott's for that matter…

Unsure of how to respond, he stated awkwardly: "I, ugh, don't have a good answer for that…"

Animalistic growl bursting from my snarling face as I grabbed his shirt collar, Stiles slammed against the car and yelped: "Okay! I'm sorry! You're mad! I get that! But your cousin… he's not a good guy…"

Eyeing the kid currently shielding his face, I took a deep breath.

Did he honestly think Derek was a danger to society, and therefore needed to be put away? And if that was the case, then maybe Scott and Stiles truly thought they were doing the right thing…

Feeling my heart rate dropping, I released him and smoothed out his shirt. Then, as I took a step back, my fangs and claws retracting, Stiles lowered his arms.

Staring up at the flushed teen, my vision was in color once again, and as he gazed back at me with both a stunned and fretful expression, I asked: "You really think Derek's the murderer?"

"Have you met the guy?" he responded light-heartedly, obviously feeling like his life was no longer in danger, but as I gave him a sharp look, his grin immediately fell as he looked back down.

"Well he's not," I crossed my arms, mind traveling to the extensive questioning Derek was going to be forced to undergo.

What if he slipped up?

No… Derek was good with that stuff… he'd be okay… our secret would be safe… right?

"But how can you really know that?" Stiles pressed, obviously thinking that familial loyalty was not something I held to a high standard.

"Cause I just do!" I snapped, running a hand anxiously through my hair as I began to pace about, "And now I gotta worry about people poking around our property… opening up closed cases on us… and if the hunters catch wind of _any_ of this…"

Propped up against the Jeep in uncomfortable silence, Stiles obviously didn't know what to say as my once murderous disposition quickly unraveled to one of complete fret, so he just merely stared at me as my mind raced.

"I'm sure it'll be…"

"Don't!" I cut off his poor attempt at mending the horrible situation he had just put me and my cousin in. "You caused this mess… you fix it!"

"Me?" he asked in alarm, voice much higher than usual.

"Yes, you!" I cried, turning my blazing gaze back onto him.

"But… Scott… the game," he sputtered, waving about erratically.

"If Scott turns, _I'll _deal with it," I waved off the least of my worries, before taking a step forward and pointing my finger right in his face. "And _you better_ figure this out, or I swear to God, Derek's gonna look like a puppy dog compared to me. Clear?"

Still staring at my finger, which was a mere centimeter from his face, Stiles' crossed light brown eyes widened nervously as he swallowed hard and nodded vehemently: "Crystal."

And in a blink of an eye, I was gone, no doubt leaving that meddling little dweeb trembling against his Jeep, trying not to soil himself.

* * *

Having forged a sick note from some old physician's pad I swiped back in New York, I skipped classes to sneak back into my old home in the woods.

Dodging all of the cops still milling around our property, I easily ducked inside unnoticed and made sure to lock up all of the incriminating paperwork and evidence that we brought along with us.

Hiding all of my belongings, as well as Derek's, and all of our books and documents on folklore and our werewolf heritage, I then double-checked that the old cellar just outside the house remained undisturbed.

If anyone found that place, lined with rows and rows of reinforced cages and chains, they'd certainly think we were serial killers, fans of torture, or part of the human trafficking business.

Finding that the dead-bolts, padlocks, and shrubbery concealing its location had remained undisturbed, I let out a small sigh of relief before sneaking my way down the familiar hill to the creek that seemed to have saved my life more times than I'd like to admit.

Stashing our belongings in garbage bags, I ducked into the small hole I hallowed out in the side of the hill back when I was just ten years old… back on the night when I first received the Bite from my Aunt Talia.

Peering inside, it looked the same. A small tattered Elmo doll, now caked in mud, was propped up against the bed of ashy blankets.

It even smelt the same, with that earthy aroma overpowering the smoky scent of the charred blankets Cora and I used to escape the burning house.

Crawling inside, I was much too big to spend four days and nights there, but as a wolf, I knew it was a cozy and snug fit, which was such a comfort during the week after the Hale house was set afire.

Shoving our belongings under the blackened blankets, I couldn't help but pick up my old Elmo doll. His fur was no longer fire engine red, but rather, it was a dark blackish-brown, with spots of white and green from mold and water damage.

That used to be my favorite possession. I had it since as long as I could remember, brining it with me wherever I went. I slept with it at my mother's bedside as she lay dying, and when I was forced to leave my apartment in New York to go live with the father I had never met, Elmo was right by my side.

Moving into the Hale house in Beacon Hills was a lonely and overwhelming experience for a child that had just lost her world, but slowly, during those three years, I adjusted; and though I never forgave my father, avoiding him at all costs, I did grow quite close to his sister.

Aunt Talia taught me of our heritage. Educated me in both my normal studies and what it meant to be a werewolf… to be a Hale. Since my mother, she was the first person I truly began to trust, and once I was old enough, she promised to turn me.

Then, one cold autumn night, while I was asleep in my bed, my Aunt Talia rushed in, waking me. She told me not to be frightened as she ushered me up into our attic, for the entire rest of the once ornate house was engulfed in flames.

My lungs stung, as did my eyes.

Blinded, Aunt Talia carried me, carefully instructing me to be brave and remember what she had always taught us. She apologized to me, and told me that she loved me. She then told me that my mother would've been as proud as she was, and as I wept, fully aware of what such a speech truly meant, my beloved aunt apologized just before biting me.

Oddly enough, it didn't hurt much, at least not that I could remember. Maybe I didn't have time to think, because the next thing I knew, my cousin Cora was dragging me onto the smoking roof.

I recall asking her where Aunt Talia was, but Cora simply told me that she needed to help the others. As the Alpha, it was her duty, and we all knew it.

Perched on the edge of the slowly collapsing roof, I remember my older cousin checking the Bite, and then telling me to stop being afraid… to get angry instead.

Wiping the tears from my ashen face, she looked at me and stated that we needed to jump, and the second we landed we could not look back. We could not stop. We just had to go.

I nodded, clutching to her as she scooped me up and jumped the four-story drop.

The grass was cold and damp against my bare feet, and as we crouched, hidden the shadows, we saw the shapes of two figures with crossbows strapped to their backs as they wielded flame-throwers.

I heard Cora growl, eyes flashing as her rage took over.

I remember begging her not to leave me… that Aunt Talia wouldn't like it, but now I understood that she couldn't simply stifle that wrathful vengeance.

Grabbing my face with her clawed hands, she accidentally nicked my cheeks as she shook me, demanding that I get angry, run, and wait for Laura or Derek to return from college.

I remember swallowing my tears, watching her shift, and then she was gone, disappearing into the bright flames and smoke, her echoing roars and the shout of hunters ringing in my ears.

Then I ran.

I ran the fastest I ever did.

The tears had dried up as I thought about my mother, about her death, about my father leaving us, about how my childhood was taken from me… and then I thought about the fire, wiping away the new life I had rebuilt for myself, destroying the rest of my family.

My heart pounding as loud as my footsteps, and as I sprinted away from the chaos, I heard one last loud animalistic howl from Cora, the sorrow disappearing from my soul as flashes of hunters murdering loved ones flashed across my mind.

All I could feel was rage.

Pure rage.

Then I saw in black and white, and as I leapt down into that hidden creek, I landed on my four, snowy white paws.

I would have been proud turning just mere minutes after receiving the Bite, but not this night.

No. I needed to focus on surviving… staying hidden until Derek or Laura heard the news of the arson and came looking for survivors. I knew they would be disappointed that I was the only one to make it out… their estranged baby cousin, but nonetheless, once I was a safe distance away, I dug into the hill and built myself a nest to wait in.

Trembling, grieving, and terrified, I was alone… again, with only Elmo by my side.

Wiping a singular tear off my face, I examined my wet finger.

I couldn't remember the last time I actually cried.

Chalking it up to stress, I sighed and tossed Elmo back into the dark corner and climbed out of my old sanctuary.

Covering it back up with some vines and roots, I then brushed myself off and looked up at the setting sun.

The game would be starting soon, and just like after the disaster that took place six years ago, I could not sit back feeling sorry for myself.

I had responsibilities. I needed to grow up and cope.

No tears. Not even anger was sufficient anymore.

Numbness would have to due.

So, popping a few of my good old 'blue and whites', I headed off towards Beacon Hills High School, fully prepared to take on whatever obstacle was going to be thrown my way.

* * *

"Scott, I just want you to remember one thing for tonight," I heard Lydia Martin from across the field.

"Um, winning isn't everything?" I heard the nervousness in his words.

Good, you little shit… you should be nervous! You shouldn't even be playing!

"Nobody likes a loser," the stereotypically shallow queen bee smirked, smoothing out his jersey and leaving an anxious Scott and sexually frustrated Stiles to stare after her.

Eyes following the strawberry blonde up the packed bleachers to her seat beside a bundled up Allison Argent, I stood with my arms crossed tightly around my chest, wearing Derek's over-sized leather jacket as a temporary replacement for my own.

Then I noticed a disturbingly familiar man sitting beside the pretty brunette in the purple beanie cap.

There, with piercing blue eyes and graying brown hair, stood one of the hunters that attacked us in the woods.

Chris Argent…

Eyes flashing, I lit up a cig to keep my temper in check as I stood off in the shadows, hidden by the trees.

I needed to keep a straight head on my shoulders.

"You feeling any pain?" I heard the coach ask an oddly stoic and quiet Jackson.

Pausing, Jackson tentatively responded: "No…"

"How 'bout if I give it a good punch? Will yah feel pain then?" Bobby Finstock chuckled, and even I had to groan in vexation.

Christ, that man was annoying.

"M-maybe?" Jackson furrowed his brows, obviously not appreciating the coach's jovial manner when he was clearly still injured.

"Listen, just go out there and give it your best… and if you feel any pain, just… just…"

"Keep playing?" the lacrosse captain ventured, regurgitating everything teenage boys were taught to say when they felt physical pain or weakness.

"That's my boy!" Coach Finstock clapped his back, causing Whittemore to wince slightly, and with that the whistle blew and the boys took the field.

Eyes scanning the field, I quickly spotted number 11, who was muttering under his breath as the game was about to start.

"Please… please let this be okay… please," he whispered, voice trembling.

Should've thought things through a little better, huh, McCall? Dumbass…

The first half of the game was mind-numbingly dull, with a thoroughly frustrated, yet thankfully still in control, Scott not even touching the ball.

I would've been relieved to just sit back and relax in undisturbed silence, but I was down to my last cigarette and itching to pop more pills.

I was losing focus. I was wondering how Derek was doing, if the cops had found anything, and if any hunters were around… well, besides Mr. Argent…

Would he recognize me? Or Derek? Or even Scott?

What if Allison was part of this whole thing? What if her dad told her to get close to us… to win our trust… to out us?

"PASS TO MCCALL!" Bobby Finstock's reverberating shouts pulled me out of my own paranoid thoughts.

Head snapping up, I looked up just in time to catch Scott flip clear over two players, catching the ball mid-air, only to tear down the field at a supernatural pace and score an impossible goal.

Groaning, I threw my current cig to the ground, stomping on it before I made my way closer to the field.

"What's going on with your teammate, Whittemore? What's he on?" I heard an opponent ask as they went to faceoff.

"I don't know… but I'm gonna find out," Jackson spoke darkly before the game resumed.

Shit. This was not good. Not good at all.

Approaching to the side of the pitch, just out of Lydia and Allison's line of sight, there I watched Scott bring the game up to a tie, and whilst the crowd cheered and whooped in enthusiasm and joy, I noticed an anxious number 24 perched on the edge of the bench.

Gnawing on his glove as his leg bounced nonstop, Stiles Stilinski's heart was racing just as fast as Scott's… and as fast as mine.

"You can do it, Scott!" I heard Allison cheer, and then I saw it.

From across the field, I spotted Scott staring down the members of the other team, his eyes glowing that eerie bright yellow, making them step back in fear.

"Shit…" I heard Stiles mutter, standing up and pushing his way in front of his energized teammates swarming the sidelines.

And as I prepared myself to literally wolf out in front of everyone, for the sake of saving Scott's hide, as well as anyone else he would endanger, my eyes met Stiles'.

He seemed stunned about what was happening, perhaps the harsh reality of the situation finally setting in… or perhaps it was because in that moment, he saw me throwing off my jacket and mustering up whatever courage I had to go expose myself and clean up their mess.

Either way, Stiles Stilinski, with his glove still hanging from his mouth, stepped over the out-of-bounds line at the exact moment I did, both us ready to rush in and prevent the impending massacre.

Thankfully, however, the roaring cheers of the crowd and the buzzer going off broke our steady gaze at one another, and as the both of us turned, we realized that Scott had scored the winning goal, tearing a hole in the goalie's stick in the process.

Jumping up and down like a mad-man, Stiles and the rest of his team flooded the field, along with a crowd of equally amped-up friends, and whilst I back-tracked, picking up Derek's jacket and slipping it back on, I saw the boy with light brown eyes and flushed cheeks searching the field.

"Scott!" I then heard Allison call after number 11, who was currently sprinting towards the locker room, letting me know that we weren't quite out of the woods yet.

* * *

"Scott? Scott!" Allison's worried voice echoed throughout the moonlit locker room.

Her soft, tentative footsteps crunched on top of a shattered mirror, causing the beautiful girl with curly brown hair to stop.

Pulling off her purple beanie, she nervously tussled her hair as she called out to the boy she saw sprint into the locker room: "Scott…"

Still, she was only met with silence.

I was crouched on one of the beams up by the ceiling, the pitch-black shadows easily keeping my location a secret as I watched on, ready to save a girl that was probably related to one of the arsons that killed the remnants of my family.

"Scott? Are you there?" her voice trembled.

Crawling to follow her along her steady path through the dimly lit boys' locker room, I heard Scott's pounding heart.

He was there all right…

Then, inching her way around the corner, she entered the communal shower room, where number 11 stood, fists clenched, facing the corner of the wall.

"Hey… y-you scared me," she chuckled uneasily, but Scott remained perfectly quiet and still.

And as I contemplated jumping down to take the young wolf's inevitable attack, Allison Argent reached her trembling hand out and gently touched his tense shoulder.

"A-are you okay?"

Turning and looking fully human, though obviously still shaken, Scott responded with a weak smile: "Ugh, yeah… sorry, I just got kinda light headed for a second…"

Yeah, Scott… _sure_ you did…

"Maybe it was the adrenaline?" she ventured with a shrug. Then smiling sweetly, she added: "I mean, you were pretty amazing out there…"

Watching him blush a little, I swear I heard the love-drunk teen's heart flutter.

"S-sorry I was acting weird today," he apologized for an incident I clearly missed.

Dimpled grin on her beautiful face, Allison replied: "It's okay. I can handle weird…"

Stifling a chuckle, I thought to myself how ironic that statement really was.

Smiling and flashing his own adorable dimples, Scott stuttered a bit: "To be totally honest, you, ugh, you make me kind of nervous."

Oh God…

And although I was rolling my eyes, Allison seemed to be very taken with his nauseatingly sweet confession.

"I do?" she tucked some curls behind her ear as she batted her long eyelashes.

"Yeah… kind of like _really_ nervous," he nodded, watching her blush as she gazed up at him. "I just… I just want to make sure I get my second chance."

"You all ready have it," she responded quietly. "I'm just waiting for you to take it."

Looking down at her, Scott took a slow step forward, as Allison took a shy step back.

"Well… maybe I need to learn to take more chances," he mumbled, chocolate eyes locked on her sparkling ones.

Sexual tension electrifying the air, I couldn't help but be entranced by the scene.

I had spent so much time training, remaining invisible and keeping my thoughts and secrets to myself that I had missed out on so many relationships. Countless people had reached out, trying to befriend the obviously broken and reserved outsider, but what I really shied away from was a romantic relationship.

I never thought I was pretty. I'd been told that my raven hair and ghostly gray eyes made me interesting… exotic even, but I didn't buy it.

I was just a fit teenage girl surrounded by horny men… enough said.

So as I watched these two polar opposites taking a risk, allowing themselves to be vulnerable and risk letting someone in only to be disappointed, used, or betrayed, I couldn't help but feel a bit envious.

I could never be that brave…

"Maybe you do," she smirked, looking up at him as he brushed her curly hair out of her face.

And after a pause where they gazed into one another's eyes, Scott went for it.

The moment their lips touched, I forced myself to look away, for I felt slightly creepy about watching such an intimate moment, and as I gave them their privacy, I noticed a wide-eyed Stiles Stilinski peering through the doorway, mouth slightly open.

The two lovebird's first kiss didn't last too long, for Allison regrettably stated she needed to go back and find her dad.

Giving Scott one last peck on the lips, causing his dimpled cheeks to burn, the smitten girl headed out of the locker room and bid the not-so-smooth Stiles goodnight, as well.

Floating over to his somewhat awkward best friend, Scott breathed dreamily: "I… I kissed her…"

"I know. I saw," Stilinski stared at his stupidly grinning best friend.

"And… and she kissed me," he seemed in complete shock over the fact that someone would be into him.

Why was he so self-conscious? He was an attractive guy… normal enough… and he was certainly a nice…

"Saw that, too," his best friend was oddly unenthusiastic given the situation.

"Pretty good, huh?" Scott seemed to be able to think again. "I… I don't know how, but I controlled it… I pulled it back."

Climbing down from my hiding spot, presence still unknown, I had to admit how curious I found his statement.

How could a mere crush help keep the beast within at bay? Shouldn't sexual urges increase heart rates and therefore spur on the shifting? Or maybe his feelings for her was what helped keep him feeling tied to his humanity?

Would I ever feel that connected to someone?

Would I ever feel… well… _anything?_

"Maybe I can do this," Scott voiced his newfound positive outlook with excitement. "Maybe it's not that bad."

Chuckling a bit too grimly, Stiles mumbled: "Yeah… well, um, we'll talk later, then…"

Noticing that the usually peppy kid was oddly quiet and distant, Scott then asked with furrowed brows: "Stiles… what is it?"

Clearing his throat, the boy's light brown eyes shifted nervously: "The, ugh, medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found…"

"And?" Scott asked whilst I literally froze in my tracks, awaiting to hear what the verdict was on my cousin's impending murder case.

"Um, I'll make this simple… medical examiner determines killer of girl to be animal, not human… Derek's human, not animal… Derek not killer… Derek let out of jail," Stiles' voice was dark and ominous.

"Are you kidding?" Scott's voice was shrill and panicked, eyes wide.

Smirking with relief, I continued to patiently wait for the rest of the news update.

"No, and here's the bigger kick in the ass… My dad IDed the dead girl… both halves… her name was Laura Hale," he licked his lips, shifting positions a bit erratically.

"Hale?" Scott repeated, stunned.

"Yeah… as in Derek's…"

"Sister," I finished Stiles' sentence as I stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, causing both startled boys to jump a little.

"You… you knew?" Stiles asked, clearly intimidated from his encounter with me earlier that day while Scott eyed me just as closely.

"What? Knew that my cousin was ripped in half?" I cocked my brow, arms crossed as I circled them. "Yeah… I knew…"

"And you didn't think to say anything?" Scott asked, confused.

"Not like you guys would've believed me… I mean, you'd just say I was covering Derek's ass cause I was his _accomplice_, right?" I quoted Stiles' earlier accusation of my character, making each boy glance at one another uneasily.

Closely eyeing the boy with short brown hair and blotchy cheeks, I stopped pacing and stood directly in front of them.

"But it doesn't matter now, does it," I clapped my hands in a somewhat breezy manner. "Looks like you're off the hook, Stilinski."

And as Scott glanced over at his best friend with a perplexed expression, Stiles did not take his anxious eyes off me, his body more still than I had ever seen it before.

"Problem's solved. Derek's out," I gloated with a somewhat foreboding air about me as I made my way out of the locker room, but before I left I turned and added pleasantly: "But FYI, he's not gonna be too happy with the two of you…"

And satisfied with the thoroughly unsettled expressions plastered on both teen's faces as they realized who they had just royally pissed off, I grinned wickedly: "Just some food for thought."

And then I slinked off, disappearing into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**YAY! More followers/favorites/reviews! You guys are really making me soooo much more excited to update ASAP! Thank you all for the support! So here's a special shout out to those of you who commented (including so guests I can't actually name): **

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**SIX: WE MUST BE KILLERS**

"Well at least it wasn't her blood," Stiles eagerly whispered, leaning well over his seat, mouth practically in Scott's ear.

"But maybe it was _my _blood," Scott breathed back, eyes furrowed as he stared at the English teacher lecturing in the front of the classroom.

"Could be animal blood… you know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something," Stiles suggested, trying to ease his best friend's extremely troubled mind.

Although no one was actually able to hear what the two boys were discussing, I could from my seat in the back corner of the room.

I had purposely arrived to school late, gladly accepting the demerit issued for tardiness in exchange for avoiding everyone.

I was still in shock over Allison's relations with the hunters, and definitely wished to protect our secret and keep my distance, and the two Chatty Kathies slowly distracting the entire classroom of students were still on my bad side.

So there I sat, slumped in my chair, and counting the ceiling tiles whilst nonchalantly listening in on Scott and Stiles' theories on the recent animal attack of some old man.

"And did what?" Scott hissed back, swatting at his friend's invasion of his personal space.

"Ate it..."

Turning in his seat with wide, almost shocked eyes, Scott gasped rather loudly in disgust: "_Raw_?"

"No, you cooked it in a little werewolf oven!" Stiles snarkily responded back, making me grin despite my best efforts to remain expressionless. "I don't know… you don't want or can't remember anything so…"

"Mr. Stilinski!" our English teacher barked, making both boys finally aware that the entire class was sniggering at them. "If that's your idea of a quiet whisper, you might want to pull your earphones out every once in a while!"

Shrinking back into his seat with flushed cheeks, Stiles nodded awkwardly whilst our instructor continued: "I think you and Mr. McCall could benefit from a little distance, yes?"

And as Scott submissively nodded, picking up his things, as a wide-eyed and obviously opposed Stiles blurted out: "No…"

"Let me know if the separation anxiety is too difficult," the teacher teased dryly, causing the class to chuckle some more at the two teens' expense.

Realizing the only open seat was next to my mean mug, Scott shot Stiles an anxious look as he slowly dragged his body down the isle, but before he could even slide into the desk, let alone look at my unfriendly stare, a girl jumped out of her seat, shouting: "Hey! I think they found something!"

With every student rushing out of their seats, our teacher could do nothing but walk over to the window, himself, fully captivated by the police wheeling out an unconscious and bloody man on stretcher.

"That's not a rabbit," I heard Scott mutter to Stiles, who's eyes nervously darted from the victim, to Scott, and then, much to my chagrin, _me_.

What the Hell was he looking at? Oh, yeah, just another bloodthirsty werewolf, right?

Scoffing, I folded my arms and focused my irritated gaze out the window, when suddenly, the man on the stretcher sat up and started screaming bloody-murder, causing every spectator, whose faces were pressed against the glass to jolt back and yelp in surprise.

"This is good," Stiles clapped Scott's arm reassuringly. "This is good. He got up… he's not dead! Dead guys can't do that!"

And as we all slowly returned to our seats, Scott quickly whispered: "Stiles… I… I did that…"

* * *

"But dreams aren't memories!" Stiles argued, slamming his overly crowded lunch tray onto an empty table in the cafeteria.

"Then it wasn't a dream… something happened last night… I just don't know what," Scott ran a hand through his thick dark brown hair restlessly. "But… I know someone who might."

Just about to shovel food into his mouth, Stiles dropped his fork in exasperation: "Who? _Derek_? What makes you so sure he has all the answers?"

"Because the night of the full moon, he didn't change… he was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night, attacking some totally innocent guy!" Scott's frantic voice was strained.

"You don't know that!" Stiles stubbornly countered, taking a handful of fries and piling them into his salivating mouth.

"But you don't _not_ know it," I startled both boys at my sudden appearance.

Nearly choking on the fries still poking out of his stuffed cheeks, Stiles merely coughed and sputtered as I nonchalantly slid onto the bench next to him and across from Scott.

"Where did she come from?" Stiles finally managed to gasp as he looked around the cafeteria for an explanation to my sudden appearance.

"Did you even see her come in?" he continued with raised his brows, light brown eyes wide and deeply confused, all while his best friend merely eyed me suspiciously.

Both of us ignoring his useless contribution to the conversation, Scott demanded: "Do you know what happened?"

Sipping my coffee, I leaned on the table and shot back with a raised brow: "That's code for did I do it, right?"

Stiles and Scott merely exchanged uncertain glances, obviously conflicted over whether or not they should have just outright accused me.

For the sake of time and energy, I decided to save them the mental and moral strain.

Sighing, I looked over the steaming cup at each boy's attentive face and stated simply: "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I was home all night… with Derek before you to go blaming him again…"

Face dropping slightly, Scott then muttered: "So I _did_ attack that guy…"

"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't… can't be too sure of anything just yet," I responded somewhat cryptically as I took another sip of the scalding liquid.

"S-so you're saying… something else may have attacked him… like another werewolf?" Stiles asked with a hurried voice as he shoved more food down his gullet.

Observing his lack of table manners in repulsion, I then gave my deadpan response: "No… I'm saying Big Foot did it," but as both boys seemed to take my sarcastic words a bit too seriously, I quickly added: "_Of course_ I mean another wolf… Christ… Big Foot? _Really_, guys?"

Frowning at my insult, or perhaps the fact that I had just stated that Big Foot was a complete hoax, Stiles eventually regained his normal amount of pep and asked: "So do you know who… or what it is?"

"I have my theories," I crossed my arms.

Clearly frustrated that I was not elaborating more, Stiles asked: "Well would you _try_ to be helpful and share them?"

Making a thoughtful face, I paused before responding: "Mm… nah…"

"Oh, come on!" Stiles cried out a bit too loud, making the surrounding tables stare.

"Charlie, this isn't funny!" Scott's voice was strained.

Suddenly losing my patience, I angrily leaned forward and snapped: "Oh, I _know_ this isn't funny. Another _mysterious_ animal attack strikes Beacon Hills, and while you worry about playing lacrosse and getting the girl, me and Derek are left sticking _our _necks out trying to keep the hunters off our tails!"

Utterly fuming, I watched Scott shrink back in his seat, his head somewhat guiltily, but Stiles merely stared at me with a slightly open mouth, the oddest expression plastered on his stupid face.

"_What_?" I barked, shooting him a vexed look.

Swallowing a little, he paused before awkwardly muttering and pointing to my nose: "Y-you know your, ugh, your nostrils flare when you're angry."

Biting my tongue, I stonily stared back at the gawkily grinning kid before looking back at an equally unamused Scott: "You can't go out with Allison… not until we figure out if you really attacked that man or not."

Sulking expression on his face, I was surprised that Scott McCall submissively nodded his head in agreement.

He must really care about her…

"No!" Stiles spoke up adamantly. "You're not canceling, okay? You're not gonna cancel your entire life! We'll figure it out!"

And as I opened my mouth to argue with the overly optimistic best friend of our possibly homicidal baby wolf, Lydia Martin took a seat right beside Scott.

"Figure what out?" the strawberry blonde eyed Scott lustfully, whilst Stile's jaw was practically hitting the table.

"Um… homework?" Scott mumbled, seemingly just as stunned about the most popular girl in school voluntarily sitting at their table.

"Why is she sitting with us?" Stiles could barely whisper to his equally lost best friend, all while Lydia unfortunately turned her attention onto me.

"And where have _you_ been?" she raised her brows and gave me a stern look. "Allison and I haven't seen you in forever…"

"I, ugh, I've been sick," I gave the fakest cough I could, ignoring Stiles' gaping face over the fact the Lydia Martin was engaging in a conversation with my outcast self.

"Well start drinking more orange juice!" she chided me, flipping her strawberry blonde hair as Allison, Danny, Jackson, and Kyle all took seats at our table as well, making me quite claustrophobic.

"Slide over," the chiseled lacrosse captain shoved his way between Scott and his girlfriend before planting a slobbery kiss on her plump lips.

Pushing his tray off food away from him, Stiles clearly lost his appetite at the sight, but when Danny took the seat on the other side of him, the blotchy faced teen seemed to forget about the exchange.

"So I heard it was some kind of animal attack," Danny spread the recent gossip on this morning's accident on school grounds. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard it was a mountain lion," Greenberg slid onto the bench next to me, as Allison took her seat beside Scott.

"A cougar is a mountain lion…. Isn't it?" Lydia asked, watching Allison and Scott blush at one another with an odd amount of intensity.

Catching his somewhat jealous girlfriend eyeing the new couple, Jackson spoke up harshly: "Who cares? It was probably just a homeless guy who was gonna die anyway."

Checking his phone, Stiles piped up: "Actually, I just found out who it is… check it out."

Pressing play of the newest web update on the investigation, the news reporter announced: "The Sheriff's Department won't speculate on the details of the incident, but confirmed that the victim, Garrisson Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to the local hospital where he remains in critical condition…"

"Oh… creepy," Kyle muttered, wrapping his muscular arm around me.

Looking up at his crooked grin, I rolled my eyes and slapped his hand away as Scott exclaimed: "Wait, I know this guy!"

"You do?" Allison asked with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, I used to take his bus when I went to see my dad… he was the driver…"

Exchanging quick looks between the young wolf and his best friend, I quickly swatted Greenberg's secondary advances on me as a clearly bored Lydia yawned.

"Can we talk about something more fun, please?" she rolled her hazel eyes. "Like… oh, maybe where we're going tomorrow night..."

After a moment of silence, Allison suddenly realized that Lydia was staring right at her.

"W-what?" she voiced her confusion with a small smile.

"You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?" Lydia raised her brows.

"Oh… um," the brunette glanced at a clearly unenthusiastic Scott, "We haven't decided what we were gonna do…"

"Well, I'm not a big fan of watching lacrosse videos, but if the six of us are going out, we're doing something fun," she stated, obviously not going to take a no for the answer.

"Hanging out?" Scott asked Allison with a look of discomfort. "You want to go out with them?"

Pausing to think, Allison eyed the staring Jackson and Lydia and then stated weakly: "Ugh… yeah… I guess it… sounds fun…"

"You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork," Jackson grumpily held up his utensil, while Lydia nudged him scoldingly.

Unable to contain myself, I began giggling at the prospect of Scott and Allison being stuck on a double date with Beacon Hills' most shallow power couple.

That literally sounded like a night from Hell…

Soon, however, my moment of amusement was shattered.

"What are you laughing at? You're coming, too," Lydia snapped.

"I'm… I'm sorry, but ugh… what?" I blinked a few times, alarm building up inside me, while Stiles continued to stare, no doubt in shock that the two newest students were all ready part of the in-crowd, whilst he remained practically invisible.

"You. Are. Coming," she repeated herself, articulating every syllable.

"Oh… no… I don't wanna intrude on your little date night," I waved her off with an uncomfortable laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, you're not gonna be fifth wheeling," the strawberry blonde practically sang.

My stomach immediately dropped.

What was she getting at?

"I'm not?" I mumbled, brows furrowed, and I could hear Stiles holding his breath at the possibility of receiving an invite to hang out with his love interest since the third grade.

"Nope," Greenberg grinned down at me, his blue eyes holding a mischevious glint. "I'm your date…"

Groaning in mental agony and disbelief, I turned to Danny: "Can't _you_ come with me?"

Grinning, Danny chuckled, knowing full well just how unhappy I was about this tragic turn of events.

"No can do, Charlie," the handsome tan boy's eyes twinkled merrily. "I agree with Jackson… would rather stab myself in the face."

Watching Dan sharing a laugh with his haughty friend, I grumbled and folded my arms, eyes traveling to the empathetic stare of Allison Argent.

Immediately looking away, I heard her upset whisper to Scott about how she thought I was avoiding her.

Indeed, I was avoiding her, and under ordinary circumstances I wouldn't have cared about hurting some teenage girl's feelings, but in this case, I strangely felt really bad about it.

She had texted me right after the day I ran off the bleachers, asking how I was feeling. Then, after she and Scott shared their first kiss in the locker room, I received another rash of excited messages, only to respond to her with stony silence.

I didn't know whether or not she was aware what her father was. That he was capable of such death and destruction, and if she did, I wondered if she shared his same values… his same prejudices.

"I, um, I don't think I should go," I looked down as I picked at my nails, ignoring Stiles' nervous munches directly in my ear.

"But you _have_ to go," Lydia pressed, losing her patience.

"I'm getting over a bug… I wouldn't wanna get any of you sick," I lied about my concern for their well-being, because in all honestly, the idea of the lot of the them catching the flu and being absent for about a month sounded like heaven on Earth.

"Don't worry, I have a good immune system," Kyle muttered in an attempt to sound smooth.

Hearing Stiles' snort next to me, I merely fought my gag reflex and glowered at the freckled boy with brown hair, before responding flatly: "Can your immune system protect you from my foot going up your…"

"Whoa!" Lydia piped up, cutting me off. "You two clearly got some _sexual tension_, and I know just the thing to release some of the pent up energy…"

"A kickboxing class?" I seriously asked, causing everyone at the table to laugh, whilst Greenberg shifted nervously.

"_No_… bowling!" Lydia clapped excitedly.

"Bowling?" Jackson raised his brows, completely unimpressed by her idea.

Pouting, she touched his shoulder flirtatiously: "But you love to bowl, baby."

"Yeah, when there's _actual _competition," the lacrosse caption shot Scott a competitive look.

Leaning forward, Allison raised her brow with a small, confident smirk: "How do you know we're not competition?" Then, glancing at Scott, she asked: "You can bowl, right?"

"Sort of," McCall ventured, but from the look on Stiles' stuffed face, I could tell the young werewolf was lying.

Sneering, Jackson challenged him some more: "Is it a 'sort of', or a 'yes'?"

Taking in everyone's expectant faces, Scott's jaw clenched as both Lydia and Jackson grinned arrogantly at him, as if he were some second-class citizen.

Then, glancing at Allison's encouraging smile, McCall inhaled and puffed out his chest: "Yes! In fact, I'm a _great_ bowler!"

And as I watched the young werewolf sit smugly back, Allison linking her arm sweetly around his, I heard his heart thumping wildly.

This date was going to be a train wreck.

* * *

"Derek, this is getting ridiculous!" I impatiently whined, sitting on the musty couch as I flipped through 'HTML Encoding: The Basics and Beyond'.

I had begun focusing all my extra time and attention onto teaching myself how various websites, software, and information databases were configured.

I had always been a bit of a tech geek, but now with Derek's recent arrest, I figured it couldn't hurt learning how to program my own virus and hack into the Beacon Hills and Californian State Police systems to wipe our names from their records.

Who said werewolves were simple-minded attack dogs?

"When I said you could tag along and help figure this whole thing out, it was under the condition that you keep an eye on Scott," he continued to sit in the corner of the room, idly staring off darkly and ruminating as he always did.

Raising my brows, I counted on my hands: "_One_, you dragged me back here… I had no say in the matter. _Two_, I did not sign up to join the damned Breakfast Club. And _three_…" I paused, not really having a third point to make, "stop brooding so much… it's weird."

Inhaling deeply, my older cousin gave me a sharp look and dully responded: "I don't _brood_… and Scott's all ready all over the place, and if he's stuck with that Jackson kid, I need to make sure things don't get out of hand."

"Personally, I think Jackson needs a good punch in the face… or twelve," I muttered, earning myself a stern look from my older cousin. "_But_… Allison seems to keep Scott calm. So if she's there, I don't see why I need to be."

"One moment of self-control does not mean some girl is gonna prevent another shifting incident from happening," he crossed his muscular arms, green eyes focused intently on my pouting face.

"But…"

"And what if the Alpha shows up? You know as well as I do that Scott's who its after," he reminded me, yet again, of why Scott McCall was just so goddamn important.

"So _you_ go bowling with your new pet," I stubbornly responded, looking back down at how the highest-security databases were encoded.

"_I _can't," he got up from his spot, peering out the grimy, cracked window with narrowed eyes.

"And what big plans do you have… besides standing in the dark and staring down the wall?" I countered, still reading away and lounging on the couch.

"Charlie, I'm not arguing with you," he pulled back the tattered curtain as he continued to look out at the front of our property.

Snapping my book shut rather loudly, I stared at him with a vexed expression.

"I'm not stupid, you know," my voiced was strained.

Barely even glancing at me, my older cousin absentmindedly answered: "Is this a hormonal thing? Cause I don't know what you're talking about…"

"I know you're keeping something from me," I stood up, tossing the book back on the moth-eaten couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

Sighing, Derek's green eyes merely glanced at my stony form and shook his head.

"You're always sending me to chase after some dumb high schooler and his friends, and then you go running off to God knows where for half the night," I walked over and stood in front of him, hands on my slender hips.

"I told you… I'm tracking the Alpha," his mind seemed to be elsewhere as he continued to focus on something in the distance.

"Sure you are," I furrowed my brows, not buying anything that man was selling.

Ever since we got back to Beacon Hills, Derek had literally disappeared every night, and only God knew what he was up to when I was in school all day…

"Sh!" was his rude response.

Taken aback, I defensively hissed back: "Don't shush me! I mean it, Derek! I know you're hiding something and I'm not gonna stop until…"

"SH!" he cut me off, his tone much harsher than before as he covered my mouth.

Struggling against his iron grip, I was just about to bite his calloused hand until I heard the noise of a car approaching in the distance.

Standing still, we both listened and watched, hoping it was not another cop coming to poke around.

After his arrest, the Sheriff got a grant so that the county could take ownership of our scorched home, and as if repossessing our property wasn't enough, police officers were constantly driving by looking for squatters, taking the one place of refuge we had left.

And low and behold, a squad car rounded the corner and pulled up our weedy driveway.

Slowly releasing me, Derek somewhat gruffly pushed me further back while he stared out from his position in the shadows, intently watching the African American patrolman step out of his vehicle.

"Looks pretty deserted here, Chief," the cop spoke into his radio as he took a few steps closer to our eerie looking abode. "You still want me to go inside?"

Shifting somewhat anxiously, I looked at Derek, wondering why were weren't grabbing our things and heading out, however, my cousin clearly had different plans in mind.

"It's county property. Gotta make sure it's empty," a dispatcher's voice responded.

Looking at our house somewhat nervously, the cop took another couple steps forward: "I… I don't think anyone's home…"

And as the police officer kept advancing, Derek's green eyes fixated on the German Shepard in the backseat of the squad car.

"For the love of God, go inside and see if anyone's in there!" the voice on the radio ordered impatiently.

Swallowing hard, the clearly inexperienced cop muttered back anxiously: "C-copy that…"

But before the man could even lift his foot to take another step forward, Derek's eyes turned blue and dilated, almost immediately sending the dog into a frenzy.

Spinning around, the cop merely stared in both confusion and apprehension as his police dog scratched at the window, foamed at the mouth, and barked wildly.

Glancing back at the house, he seemed conflicted, but as the hysterical animal continued to become more and more agitated, the officer eventually retreated and rushed back to his car.

"Okay, okay, we're getting out of here, boy."

And with that, the squad car practically flew away, its driver no doubt intending to steer clear of our property for a very long time.

Examining my cousin's smug grin, I stated in disapproval: "Did you really have to scare the poor thing half to death?"

Glancing back at me with an amused face, Derek raised his brows and responded simply: "Yes."

Pursing my lips, I rolled my eyes and shook my head, and just as I was about to sit back down, we heard Scott's low voice coming from outside.

"I-I know you can hear me. I need your help," McCall seemed timid as we stared at him from the window.

Eyes flitting over to my older cousin, I saw him clench his jaw angrily, obviously not over being double-crossed by the young wolf, but before I could tell him to remain calm, Derek stormed outside, with me close at his heels.

"O-okay… so I know I was part of you getting arrested… and that we basically announced your being here to the hunters," Scott blurted out as Derek roughly slammed him against the wall of our home, shaking the entire porch.

"Whoa!" I yanked my cousin off with an amount of strength that surprised just about all present. "Just listen to him," I glanced over at the extremely grateful expression plastered on Scott's face as I added stormily, "Even _if_ he doesn't deserve it…"

Then, after Derek took a step or two back, silently agreeing to remain composed, I crossed my arms and leaned against the railing, quietly keeping an eye on the volatile situation.

"I-I also don't know what happened to, um, Laura," he swallowed, tentatively looking at Derek's still dangerous face. "But… I think… I think I did something last night. I had a dream about someone, but ugh, someone else got hurt… and it seems like part of the dream actually happened."

"So you think you attacked the driver," Derek stiffly stated.

"D-did you see what I did last night?" Scott avoided commenting on that troubling statement.

"No," his green eyes were piercing.

Glancing at my somber face, Scott then seemed to find a bit more courage as he asked: "Can you at least be honest with me? Am I gonna hurt someone?"

"Yes," he crossed his arms, expression impassive.

"Could I kill someone?" he asked, chocolate brown eyes deeply troubled.

"Yes," my older cousin nodded firmly.

"_A-am_ I gonna kill someone?" dread hung off every word he uttered.

"Probably," Derek shrugged.

Well don't sugar coat it for the poor kid…

Staring at my cousin with a disillusioned face, Scott then turned to me, as if I was going to have a different answer.

I didn't. I wish I did, but I didn't.

So, keeping quiet, I steadily watched him process what was just bluntly explained.

"Look, I can teach you to control the shift, even during a full moon… I can teach you how to remember," Derek stated gruffly, and as Scott sighed with relief, he added sternly: "But it's not gonna come for free."

"What do you want?" McCall seemed more determined than ever.

"You'll find out, but for now, I'm gonna give you what you want," his tone was a bit more relaxed. "Go back to the bus. Go inside, and see it… feel it. Let your senses… your sight, smell, touch… let them remember for you."

Brows furrowing, Scott was deeply confused by my cousin's vague instructions.

"That's it? Just go back to the bus?" his eyes shot over to me for help once again.

"Do you wanna know what happened?" Derek snapped peevishly.

"I… I just wanna know if I hurt him," Scott mumbled, eyes fixated on his shoes.

"No you don't," I sighed, making McCall and my cousin look up at me as I headed back inside my old home's remains. "You wanna know if you'll hurt her…"

And after I stared at him knowingly, Scott did not respond, for we all knew that I had hit the nail right on the head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's the next installation! Hope you guys enjoy it! Not as many reviews last chapter, so I'm assuming it wasn't my strongest. Worked extra hard on this one, so I hope y'all like it better than 6 (extra special thanks to Carly and Guest for their comments)! **

**Okay, thanks again to all those who did review, follow, and favorite it! I'm eternally grateful! :)**

**ANDDDD only own my OC! Okay, read awayyyyy! **

**SEVEN: FRIEND CRUSH**

Distractedly picking at my nails, I sat in the corner of Allison Argent's light pink bedroom, wondering how in God's name Derek thought my hanging out in a hunter's house was a good idea.

Be cool, he said. Blend in, he said.

Yeah, sure… send the werewolf with anxiety and social problems… cause that sounds like an absolutely _brilliant _idea…

"Could you stop? There's no polish even left!" Lydia Martin scolded me from her spot on Allison's plush queen-sized bed.

Glancing down at my hands, I realized that the sassy strawberry blonde was indeed correct, for there was maybe a singular speckle of dark purple nail polish on my right thumb.

"Oh, right," I muttered, beginning to twist my necklace instead.

Grinning at me, Lydia then turned back to Allison and teasingly sang: "I think someone's a little nervous."

And as both my companions glanced back at my somewhat stiff disposition, I couldn't help but mumble under my breath: "Yeah, no kidding…"

Completely unaware that I was only anxious about my physical well-being due to fact that an extremely dangerous hunter was just downstairs, the queen bee with hazel eyes offered her own less than reassuring, back-handed compliment: "Oh, don't worry Charlie! Kyle's _obsessed_ with you… even with your little… quirks…"

Shooting the ditsy diva a sharp look, Allison's warm eyes floated over to me from her spot in front of her open closet: "If it makes you feel any better, I'm nervous too."

Forcing a vaguely appreciative smile, I continued to try my hardest to listen for any signs of danger from Chris's movements the floor below us.

"You two are such babies!" Lydia cried, flipping her curled locks behind her back. "It's a group date. What can go wrong?"

Doubtful brown eyes immediately meeting mine, Allison and I both raised our brows, silently agreeing that there were _plenty_ of things that could 'go wrong'.

Finally deciding on a shirt, the pretty teen with curled dark brown hair yanked out a simple black cable-knit sweater, and even though I was quite fond of it, Lydia certainly wasn't.

"Allison! You can't _seriously_ be wearing that," disapproval was plastered on her porcelain face.

Glancing down at the shirt with furrowed brows, she then looked back up at the strawberry blonde with a curious expression: "Why not?"

Hopping up from the girl's bed with a long, deep sigh, Lydia took the sweater, holding it away from her body as if it were road kill.

"Cause this… this is just depressing," she let it drop to the floor as she shoved her way into the closet.

Shooting me a tired look, Allison picked back up the sweater and examined it somewhat defensively: "But I love this sweater…"

"You wear too much black," Lydia continued to rummage through Allison's overly stuffed closet, which I had to admit I was quite envious of.

"Charlie always wears black, too!" Allison pointed out the obvious.

Giving her a slightly irritated look, I saw the brunette smirk as she threw me under the proverbial bus.

If Lydia started to give me a hard time cause of her I swear…

Looking back and quickly assessing my royal blue fitted tank, black skinny jeans and matching black knee-length heeled boots, Lydia then stated with a shrug: "She's from Manhattan… she can pull it off."

Smug smirk immediately fading from her face, Allison plopped down on her bed in exasperation whilst I chuckled at my surprising amount of luck in this given situation.

"No… no… _oh God_ no," Lydia tore through Allison's wardrobe. "Oh, Allison, my respect for your taste dwindles every second," her voice was almost melancholic.

Rolling her eyes, Allison shot me a look like 'shut it' as I continued to laugh quietly at her expense.

Maybe Lydia wasn't so bad after all…

"Oh! This! This we can work with!" that evening's fashion police finally pulled out a cream and pink floral sheer blouse. "Put this on with those mint jeans and beige flats," she commanded, tossing them to a slightly irritated Allison.

"Yes, master," she remarked sarcastically, causing Lydia to frown.

"You'll be thanking me for my help when Scott can't keep his hands off you!" she called after the brunette as she closed the bathroom door to get changed.

Then, turning to my smirking face, the girl with reddish blonde hair shook her head and stated with a sigh: "Some people are just so ungrateful…"

Happy I was not the one suffering Lydia's wrath, I merely nodded and folded my arms, enjoying being left alone for once.

"You sure this is okay?" Allison appeared, tentatively turning around as we both gave her a brief once-over.

Clapping as she stood up and bounced around in excitement, Lydia squealed: "Oh my God! Yes, you look perfect!" and then, turning to me, she added proudly: "Am I not a miracle worker?"

But before Allison could say anything in response, her bedroom door opened as Mr. Argent came in without any warning.

"Oh… hi, dad," Allison's voice was strained, brows raised, all whilst my heart suddenly felt as if it were about to fall out my butt.

Glancing at Lydia and I with his piercing blue eyes, he then looked at his slightly irritated daughter with a crooked smile: "Right… sorry… forgot to knock."

Eyeing the undeniably attractive man with lustful eyes, Lydia sprawled on the bed, tossed her curled mane of hair, and said with a coy smirk: "Hey, Mr. Argent."

Observing her slightly inappropriate behavior with an odd expression, the man with graying brown hair then turned to me.

"Hi, I'm Allison's dad. We haven't met," he extended his hand.

Not that I would have ever tried to give him a remotely firm shake, for fear he'd sense I was too strong for an average teenage girl, but the moment I stood to greet him, I felt my limbs go limp.

I had taken a lot more pills than usual the moment I found out we were getting ready at the Argents, God forbid something like this occurred, so although my rage and hatred for the man was kept in check, my trepidation certainly was not.

"Charlie. N-nice to meet you," I muttered, feeling extremely uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Dad, do you need something?" Allison spoke up, voice testier than usual.

Turning to face his daughter, who currently had her hands on her hips, Mr. Argent responded: "I wanted to tell you that you're staying here tonight."

Eyes widening, Allison protested: "What? I told you I was going out with my friends tonight."

"No… some animal's out there attacking people," his voice was stern.

Some animal, huh?

Don't you mean _you_, you murderous bigot?

"Dad!" Allison tried to argue some more, but Chris spoke over her.

"There's a curfew passed 9:30pm. No more arguing," he spoke firmly, before curly nodding at Lydia and I and exiting the bedroom.

Obviously conflicted over what to do, Allison frowned.

"Daddy's little girl much?" Lydia asked, brow raised as a small smirk tugged on her lips.

I knew what she was doing, and I had to admire it.

I always did enjoy when someone was as good as I was in the art of manipulation…

"Sometimes," Allison muttered, face now defiant. "But not tonight."

Wicked smile spreading across her face, Lydia glanced at me triumphantly.

"Great, let's go," I stated, grabbing my black hoodie.

"Wait," Lydia crossed her arms, face now as stern as Mr. Argent's was.

"What now?" Allison hissed, clearly wishing to sneak out sooner rather than later.

"We just spent an hour making her look presentable, and you wanna go out in a hoodie?" she raised her brows, hazel eyes holding a look of disbelief.

"Lydia, come on," Allison griped.

"No," she stubbornly shook her head. "If I'm hanging out with you two, the least you can do is look presentable," she stated, ripping the faded sweatshirt out of my hands. "Now where's your leather jacket? The cute vintage one…"

Still sour over the whole jacket ordeal, I grumbled: "It ripped…"

Sighing in frustration, Lydia impatiently asked: "And you haven't replaced it yet?"

"I've been busy," I honestly admitted.

Pursing her lips, the strawberry blonde began to think.

Glancing at the clock, I knew we were running late, and leaving Scott and Jackson alone at the bowling alley was certainly not the best of ideas.

"It's cold outside and I need a jacket… just give me back my sweatshirt and I'll take it off when we get there," I stated.

"Here," Allison handed me a black biker jacket. "Keep this one."

Furrowing my brows, I examined it and realized that this was not a cheap item of clothing. Like my old leather coat, this one was vintage, in great condition, and pretty rare.

"No… I… I couldn't," I mumbled, glancing up at her genuinely pleasant smile.

"My mom works in trade shows… I got another two buried somewhere in that closet," she shrugged, giving me an encouraging nod.

Making a face, I always hated taking things from people. I was always just too proud.

And now, here was this girl, who I had been rudely avoiding as if she had done something wrong, generously handing me a priceless item.

"Allison," I felt guilt knotting my stomach.

"Charlie, stop. You're my friend," she persisted, heading towards the window and opening it. "Besides, there was no other way to appease Queen Lydia."

"Hey!" she whined a bit, but as I slid on the perfectly fitted black leather jacket, the strawberry blonde sang merrily: "But she's right… and now we all look hot, so we can go!"

Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I followed Allison onto the roof, only to watch the brunette jump and flip off the story drop, landing on her feet with ease.

Raising my brows in surprise, I heard Lydia gasp.

"Eight years of gymnastics!" Allison proudly whispered, taking in my impressed smile and Lydia's speechless gaping mouth. "You two coming or what?"

"I'll, um, I'll take the stairs," the usually unshakeable queen bee stuttered, face ghostly white at the idea of hopping off the roof.

Mischievously grinning over my shoulder at her, I murmured back: "Suit yourself…"

And with that, I leapt, making the jump with ease, but purposely stumbling a bit on my landing to make it look less suspicious.

Who would've thought sweet little studious Allison was a bad ass?

Now if only I knew that she didn't want to kill my cousin… or me…

* * *

Returning from the restroom, my blood pumping the newest dosage of Xanax and Vicodins pleasantly throughout my tingling body, I dragged my feet towards our designated three alleys, in no means rushing to return to the dreadful triple date.

Allison was examining the bowling balls, lifting each one up and testing the weight, whilst an intrigued and somewhat intimidated Scott watched from behind her.

"Really looks like you know what you're doing," Scott mumbled nervously, his heart beating erratically.

"I used to bowl with my dad," she decided to select a sparkly dark blue one before she turned to face the flustered teenage boy. "When's the last time you bowled?"

"Hm… at a, ugh, birthday party," he responded, trying to look like he knew what he was doing as he gazed at each ball, and as she smiled and walked away, he added under his breath: "When I was eight…"

"Getting nervous McCall?" Jackson called from where he was fastening his bowling shoes.

Turning to look at the arrogant blonde as his girlfriend giggled and fawned over him, I saw Scott's jaw clench angrily.

"Hey," I came up from behind him, patting his shoulder. "Relax. He's just trying to get under your skin."

Glancing at me, the teenager's chocolate brown eyes were mixed with both surprised that I was trying to be comforting and thankful over my support.

"I'll ignore Jackson if you can ignore Greenberg," he mumbled, making me look at the Irish teen checking his reflection in the ball return.

Frowning, I then turned to Scott's amused smirk.

"Think anyone would miss him if I dumped his body in Beacon Hills Reservoir?" I asked, half serious.

Chuckling, Scott was about to answer when Lydia impatiently called over two us: "_Come on_… we're all _waiting_."

Glancing at Allison's grinning face and Jackson's irritated one, my eyes then landed on Kyle's.

"Come to daddy," he eagerly waved me over, causing me to let out a long, heavy sigh.

This was going to be a _long_, _painful_ night…

Plopping down on the seat, I turned my back to Kyle's grinning face, pretending to be intrigued by Jackson helping Lydia bowl.

Hitting three pins, the strawberry blonde pushed her very touchy boyfriend off of her, storming back up to her seat and growling: "I'm so bad at this!"

Standing up, it was Allison's turn and as she aligned herself in the center of the lane, she sent the ball flying down, hitting a perfect strike.

Grinning, she turned and looked at Scott and Kyle's impressed eyes, while the highly competitive power couple merely stared on stonily.

She had great aim. Even I had to admit that.

"Babe, you're up," Kyle cooed in my ear, making me cringe.

"I promised I'd come," I flinched away and crossed my arms. "Never said I'd play."

"Charlie, come on!" Allison called over.

"Sorry," I responded flatly. "Greenberg can just go twice."

"Babe, come on… don't be a party pooper," Kyle grabbed my hand, his blue eyes giving me a puppy dog look.

Staring at him blankly, I stated evenly: "Don't call me 'babe'… and sorry, I don't do the shoes…"

"Can't blame you there," Lydia spoke up, "I brought my own, but I'd _never _wear rentals."

Sitting back smugly that I had someone actually backing me up for once, I grinned.

"But…"

"Shut up and bowl, Greenberg," Jackson snapped impatiently, clearly bored about the whole exchange.

"Fine!" he stood up, grabbing a standard black bowling ball. "Prepare to be amazed…"

Collectively rolling our eyes, we watched as the least athletic person tossed the ball down the lane, only to surprisingly knock one pin down.

Then it was Jackson's turn, and as expected, the haughty and nimble competitor bowled a strike.

"You're up, McCall," he sneered, sitting down and wrapping his arm around his bubbly girlfriend.

Watching his best friend making moves on Lydia, Kyle decided to try his luck on me, but just as he was about to rest his muscular arm around my shoulder, I muttered dangerously: "Touch me and you lose that arm…"

"But Jackson and Lydia are doing it," he whined.

"Jackson and Lydia actually _like_ each other," I retorted harshly, feeling a migraine coming on.

"You can do it, Scott!" Allison cheered encouragingly.

Inhaling deeply, the nervous new wolf awkwardly threw the ball in the most haphazard of manners, sending the bowling bowl straight into the gutter.

Bursting out into hysterical laughter, Jackson and Greenberg cackled at the now red-faced Scott somberly walking back to the ball return while Allison hissed: "You mind shutting up, Jackson!"

Still hysterical, Whittemore was barely able to gasp out: "I'm sorry… it's just… _Greenberg_ even hit a pin…"

"So much for being a 'great bowler', McCall," Kyle chimed in, causing me to elbow him quite hard in the gut.

"Ow!" he hissed, rubbing his sore ribs while Allison shot my grinning face an appreciative look.

"Maybe he just needs a little more time to warm up," I offered, giving Scott a look like 'relax', for I could hear his pulse racing.

"Or maybe he needs the kiddy bumpers," Jackson cackled, making Lydia even join in on the laughter at poor Scott's expense.

Protectively glaring at the popular jocks mocking her new love interest, Allison then stood up and took Scott's arm as he prepared to try a second time.

"Just aim for the middle," she rubbed his shoulder.

"Or anything other than the gutter," Jackson muttered loudly.

"Let him concentrate!" I barked, thoroughly irritated by how immature this entire crowd was.

Ignoring the lacrosse captain's foul gaze, I brushed some hair out of my eyes while I continued to try not to scream at the obnoxious teenagers mercilessly picking on some nerdy kid just trying to impress his crush.

If they only knew he could literally beat the crap out of all of them…

"You're just thinking too much," Allison whispered, looking up at his frowning face.

"I-I'm really sorry," he looked down sheepishly. "I'm ruining everything."

Poor guy. All he wanted was to hang out with her… and now he was getting publically ridiculed by a bunch of annoying, status-obsessed high schoolers.

"No, no! Not at all!" she squeezed his bicep. "But I would like to shut them up, so just clear your head and think about something else."

""Like what?" he furrowed his brows, chocolate brown eyes looking to the beautiful girl for answers.

"Anything," she shrugged, and then a playful grin spread across her dimpled face. "Think about me… naked."

Biting my lip, I tried not to smile, for I was obviously not supposed to overhear that.

But as Allison sauntered away, a flushed Scott glanced at me quickly, knowing full well I heard what had just been said.

Then, taking in a deep breath, I heard his heart rate slow down, and in a split second, he sent the most perfect shot down the lane, knocking every single pin down.

Raising his brows in surprise, he took a few steps back and then turned around to a clapping Allison and I, ignoring the gaping looks of Lydia, Jackson, and Kyle.

"What did you say to him?" Lydia hissed, eyeing Scott closely.

"I, ugh, just gave him something to think about," Allison blushed a little while Scott gave her a knowing look.

Hell yeah, you did…

Still stifling my own smile, Scott bashful face met mine, immediately making the kid break out into a wide, dopey grin.

If only flirting and frivolous flings could make me feel so blissful and carefree…

Scott was lucky, and oddly enough, I was happy for him.

Then, obviously feeling a bit more confident, Scott took Allison's hand into his own, and as the sappy couple smirked at one another, my phone began to vibrate.

Rummaging through my new leather jacket, I yanked it out and saw that Derek was calling, immediately dampening my high spirits.

This couldn't be good…

Tossing the jacket back onto the seat, I stood up and dismissed myself from the group, my eyes catching McCall's somewhat concerned ones.

Walking back towards the snack bar and arcade, I hoped the noisy atmosphere would help keep the conversation between my cousin and I confidential, secret from any listening baby wolf ears.

"What's up?" I answered, voice low as I leaned on the counter, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Derek's voice was thick and forced as he tried to suppress his noticeable anger.

Something had definitely just happened.

"Are you safe?" I immediately blurted out, unable to play it cool by how rattled my usually stoic older cousin seemed.

"Yeah, I'm safe," he grumbled, his breathing uneven.

"Well are you hurt?" I inquired, staring at Lydia now trying to flirt with Scott in front of a jealous Jackson and uncomfortable Allison.

Typical. Now that Scott's beating your hubby you have eyes for him…

"_I'm_ not," his odd response made me focus once again on the conversation at hand.

Furrowing my brows, I asked: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"They broke the windows of my car!" Derek barked right into my sensitive ears.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, watching Lydia bowl a strike out of seemingly nowhere.

She was definitely pretending to suck so the big, strong men could help her…

"They came and blocked me in at the gas station and made me watch as they destroyed my car!" my older cousin's voice shook furiously.

"Derek! Who did?" I demanded, trying to get him to concentrate as I backed away towards the bathroom, having noticed the game was over and now everyone seemed to be heading my way.

"Argent," Derek's voice was an animalistic growl. "Chris Argent and two of his hunting buddies…"

Mouth going dry, I could barely keep myself from crying out in panic: "_What_?"

Impatiently snapping, Derek began to repeat himself: "I said…"

"I know what you said," I hissed, running my hand through my wavy black hair, pacing back and forth anxiously. "So what does this mean? Do they know about you? About us?"

"I don't know," he sighed, calming down a little.

He could probably hear how upset I was.

"Derek… we need to get out of here," I breathed, my heart pounding against my chest.

"You're overreacting," he said simply.

"Overreacting?" I repeated, voice shrill, but as I saw Allison, Lydia, and Kyle over at the dining area, staring at me, I turned my back to them and lowered my shaking voice: "Did you forget what these guys are capable of, or is living in the ashes of our old home not a big enough reminder?"

"Charlie…"

"No, Derek," I shook my spinning head as sweat began to form on my forehead. "Let's forget about Scott and the Alpha and just get the Hell out of Beacon Hills…"

"Charlie, no!" he barked sternly. "I got it under control…"

Laughing in disbelief, I snorted: "Yeah… sure sounds like it…"

"Listen, I only called to warn you… to tell you to be more careful cause they're onto us."

"Yeah, no shit," I muttered, feeling a dizzy spell coming on.

"Keep it together," my older cousin's voice was now a bit more soothing… well, as soothing as Derek could get. "Stay calm and keep Scott safe."

"Derek, this is getting too dangerous," I stated, turning to scan where everyone was and spotting Scott and Jackson in the arcade.

Why the Hell should I risk my life for some snot-nosed brat… even if said snot-nosed brat was actually a good guy?

What made his life so much more important than mine?

"It's fine. None of your paperwork goes back directly to me, so the Argent's won't even look twice at you… I'm just gonna need to lay low for a while," Derek reminded me of how I technically lived a town over under the custody of some distant second cousin twice removed.

"And you said reading those books was a waste of my time," I mumbled, unable to stop myself.

Derek had spent months ragging on me for studying IT and information systems during my spare time, but now it looked like my hacking skills were paying off.

"You really gonna say 'I told you so' at a time like this?" his voice was growing agitated again.

Head throbbing, I nodded and responded: "Yeah, well I did… so what now?"

"Like I said… just keep Scott safe. I'll deal with the hunters," he spoke definitively.

"Yeah, just like you're dealing with the Alpha?" I countered, brows raised.

"Just do what I say, okay?" he snapped in frustration at my sassy, but warranted dig.

He was biting off more than he could chew, and I knew that he was finally feeling the pressure.

"Okay, okay," I sighed, pulling out my pill case as nonchalantly as possible. "I'll keep him safe."

"Good. And get him home soon," Derek added another command.

"Sure," I sighed dismally, and just as my cousin hung up, I muttered to myself: "Guess _my_ safety isn't a priority."

Popping an extra Xanax, I glanced at the clock on the wall before turning my attention back onto a very tense conversation between McCall and Whittemore.

"I don't have any secrets," I heard Scott lie, his voice almost drowned out by the pinball machine and various other games distracting my currently scattered and panicked mind.

"Yeah, you do," Jackson's tone was threatening. "And I'm gonna find out what…"

"What's he saying?" a sudden voice sounded from directly behind me, causing my all ready racing heart to nearly pop out of my chest.

Jumping, I spun around, instinctively pinning the surprising presence against the wall.

Staring into two wide, orb-like light brown eyes, I took in the equally startled face of a gasping Stiles.

"Whoa! It's just me!" his voice cracked nervously, cheeks blotchy and flushed.

"_Stiles_!" I hissed scoldingly as I gruffly released him. "Don't do that!"

"Do what? Sneak up behind a werewolf?" he asked, his breathing becoming more steady as mine did the same. "Yeah, trust me, I won't be throwing you a surprise party anytime soon."

Giving the grinning, sarcastic teen a pointed look, I eventually sighed and shook my head.

I had too much on my mind right now to deal with his snarky retorts… even if they were entertaining…

"So what's going on?" he asked, clumsily leaning against the payphone on the wall.

Ignoring the fact that he almost fell, I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes: "Jackson's threatening him."

"What else is new?" Stiles answered, eyes glancing over to Lydia staring at his best friend instead of her boyfriend.

Catching his gaze, I was going to say something along the lines of 'why are you so obsessed with someone like that', but my thoughts were interrupted by Greenberg's sudden presence.

"What are _you_ doing here, Stilinski?" Kyle demanded.

"O-oh, hey Greenberg," he smiled quickly, before his grin faded.

He clearly wasn't a fan of the attractive Irish boy either.

"He's my ride," I spoke up, giving the uneasy boy with short brown hair an out.

"Yeah… what she said," he crossed his arms, slipping a bit from were he was leaning against the payphone.

"I thought we decided that I'd drive you," he looked down at me.

Noticing that he was holding my leather jacket, I realized he must have thought to grab it after I left it behind, and I suddenly felt sort of guilty.

Sure, Kyle Greenberg was a self-centered jackass, but if what Lydia said was true, this unfortunate kid somehow managed to fall for the least interested, cold-hearted girl.

He was definitely handsome, and as he looked down at me with a somewhat disappointed gaze, I felt my usually stony disposition towards him soften up.

"Well I'm picking up Scott and Allison, too," Stiles' rushed voice piped up while I searched my mind for an excuse.

Shooting Stilinski an irritated look, Kyle was about to say something, but I finally managed to sift through my drugged mind and find some words.

"Allison lives right down the block from me… just makes more sense for me to go with him," I fibbed, whilst Stiles nodded vehemently, probably glad that I had stepped between him and the taller, vexed teenage boy.

"Thanks for grabbing my jacket for me," I forced a small smirk as I looked up at his pretty blue eyes. "And thank you for tonight," I added, causing his freckled face to break out into a dopey grin.

"Yeah, sure! No problem," he mumbled dreamily, while I folded my jacket over my arm and took Stiles, dragging him away.

"What was that?" he sounded a bit amused.

"What was what?" I tried to see straight.

Maybe that extra pill was a bad idea…

"Charlotte Hale… being _nice_? To _Greenberg_?" he chuckled.

Stopping dead in my tracks, the sound of the kid uttering my full name made me sober up real quick.

"I-I mean Charlie," he laughed nervously, running his hand over his hair.

"Why are you even here?" I inquired snottily.

"I, ugh, I wanted to… to…" he furrowed his brows, tripping over his words as he thought out loud. "To make sure Scott didn't… you know…"

"Kill his date?" I ventured, brows raised.

"I was gonna say turn, but sure… yours works, too," he shrugged.

"Don't you have anything better to do on a Friday night?" I asked, hands on my hips, tone one of slight amusement.

Thinking, Stiles scrunched up his face: "Nah… not really…"

Shaking my head, I tried not to giggle and impatiently commanded: "Go get Allison and Scott."

"Right!" he practically hopped away, and as I stared after the eccentric teenager, I temporarily forgot just how completely screwed my cousin and I really were.

* * *

New leather jacket on my lap, I played with the zipper as I absentmindedly stared out the window from the passenger seat of the somewhat cluttered blue Jeep.

Allison and Scott stood on her front porch, talking about a possible second date, all while Stiles was sitting beside me, punching through the radio stations, unable to find an acceptable song.

"So, do you think we can hang out again soon?" Scott nervously asked, smirking a little.

Gazing up at him with bright brown eyes, Allison grinned: "Definitely, but I have to admit something… I, um, I'm not good on group dates…"

Oh thank God! Now I won't be dragged on anymore of these torturous adolescent social activities...

Glancing at Scott's bright, dimpled smile, I knew he felt just as relieved as I did.

"So next time, can it just be us two?" her heart fluttered.

"I'm totally cool with that," McCall eagerly nodded.

"Great," she tucked an unruly curl out of her blushing face, and as they stared at one another, I heard both their pulses quickening.

Giving into their raging hormones, the young couple kissed.

But it didn't stop there… and after about another ten minutes of them going at it, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Oh for the love of God," I groaned, crossing my arms as I leaned my head back against the seat.

"Come on, it's kinda cute," Stiles ventured as he stared out as Allison and Scott continuing their tender make out session.

Glancing over at his intrigued and slightly envious expression, I spoke flatly: "Puppies are cute… babies are cute… two people slobbering all over one another while their friends watch is _not_."

"Someone's a little sexually frustrated," Stiles grinned, his light brown eyes now floating over to my stiff form.

Thoroughly amused that it was Stilinski saying such a preposterous thing, I couldn't help but laugh: "That's a good one, Stiles."

Proudly smirking that he made me laugh, Stiles' eyes then drifted down from my grinning face to my fitted royal blue tank.

Cheeks flushing as he stole a peek at my cleavage, the gawky teen cleared his throat: "Y-you know… if you're feeling left out, we could…"

And as I raised my brows at the kid leaning in and awkwardly puckering, I grimaced and stiff-armed his advancing face.

"Thanks, but I'll entertain myself tonight some other way."

Completely unphased and unoffended by my refusal to kiss him, Stiles raised his brows as he continued to talk with my hand squashing his face: "Really, how?"

Shaking my head in exasperation, I took in his thoroughly interested face and wondered what exactly he thought I was getting at.

Then, deciding I did not have the energy to answer, I simply opened the door and hopped out of the car.

"Wait! Where are you going?" he nearly fell out of the open window as he called after me eagerly.

"Home," I slid on my jacket, biting my cheek so as not to smile at his overly energetic and clumsy disposition.

"But that's like 3 miles from here," he furrowed his brows as he stared at me turning to leave.

"I know," I called over my shoulder as I began my long journey home.

Stumbling over his words, Stiles then called after me innocently: "Was it something I said?" and as I merely kept walking, soon disappearing into the shadows of the dark street, I heard him mutter to himself: "It was something I said…"

* * *

I took my time walking home.

The drugs were wearing off, and although I was glad that my vision was no longer foggy, I was also a lot tenser than before.

Saying I was freaked about Derek's run-in with the hunters was a vast understatement, and as I pulled my jacket tighter around my chilly body, I felt my migraine pulsating against my temples.

Derek and I were never particularly close, for he was away at school for most of my time at the Hale house.

After the fire, however, when he and his sister came back, I could tell he was resentful that I, some strange, distant cousin, was the only survivor.

We barely spoke my first two years back in New York, and Laura took on the role of my guardian whilst Derek ran off, drank, partied, and grieved in his own, immature way.

But over time, as we all grew up, alone and fending for ourselves, his stony indifferent silence towards me turned into an argumentative and domineering distaste.

He hated how much control I had, how much Laura warmed up to me, and how strong of a wolf I was.

I seemed to handle my loss and grief so well, seemingly blending in as a normal person in society, but it was only much later did he find out just how lost I also felt.

So for years he'd bark orders at me, pick fights, and make my life as difficult as possible, but then, about two years ago, things changed.

We ran into some trouble with hunters, and I winded up saving his life… almost dying in the process.

Derek was never the same after that.

Maybe it was cause I finally proved myself to him… that I was a worthy and loyal member of the pack… of the family.

Either way, we grew closer. We talked more, even drank together when Laura went out of town.

Then the incident happened, and all that progress seemed to have been reduced to just a few steps in the right direction.

But, regardless of our rocky history, we were in this together, with no Laura to mediate our hotheaded quarrels, and hearing he was just cornered by two dangerous hunters made a cold shiver run up my spine.

Mind still racing, I almost missed it.

In the distance, some large, dark shape darted down from a tree.

Catching the quick movement out of the corner of my eye, I froze, peering into he darkness.

Listening intently, I was eventually able to hear low, heavy breathing.

It was coming from an animal, all right… a very large animal.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, my eyes scanned the shadowy forest, and then I heard a twig snap from behind me.

Spinning around, my heart pounded in my ears, and although I was relieved that I could not pick up a human scent, the smell that filled my nostrils did nothing to calm my nerves.

It was a dank, musty odor, the scent of matted and dirtied damp fur, and as I turned around, I brushed some hair out of my face as the breeze picked up.

Leaves swirling around my feet, the blowing branches masked the dim light from the moon and temporarily impeded my vision.

I stood still and waited.

Waited to see anything, to hear anything.

Waited for whatever was out there to attack.

But as I tensely stood there in the darkness, nothing happened.

Biting my lip, I figured whatever it was, the creature must have went on its way.

Sighing, I shook my head and chuckled a little.

Calm down, Charlie… don't let your anxiety get the better of you…

And just as the breeze died down and I lifted my foot to take a step forward, I saw a massive pair of fiery, bright red eyes glaring back at me.

Heart stopping, I felt the beast's hot, stinking breath on my face, and as I took in the largest wolf I had ever seen, it's deep, rumbling growls making me want to run for the hills, I then realized I was staring at the Alpha.

Fear immediately melting away, I felt rage bubble up inside me.

This was it. This was the monster that killed Laura… that bit Scott… that got my cousin and I into this entire mess…

Vision suddenly going black and white and halfway through transition, I snarled aggressively, but rather than attacking the clearly much weaker werewolf threatening it, the Alpha merely took off.

Roaring in vengeance and anger, I furiously followed it.

Where were you going, you son of a bitch?

Face me!

Don't be a goddamn coward!

I sprinted, bounding from my spot on the ground, tailing the monstrous wolf as it leapt from treetop to treetop.

I didn't care that I was being completely stupid, possibly running right towards my own death.

My urge to kill was too strong, and my rage impeded all logical thought.

It was only until I lost the damned thing did I stop, gasping for air and swearing in frustration, and then I realized where the Alpha had led me.

Still halfway shifted, I could hear Derek's familiar growl.

He had turned, and my first instinct was that the Alpha had gone after him instead of me.

No longer angry, I took off, moving as fast as I could towards our old home in the distance.

Don't kill _him_! Kill _me!_

And as I bounded up the driveway, I realized that the loud banging and roars of two werewolves was coming from inside our dilapidated home.

Kicking the door down, I was indeed surprised to find Derek panting and standing over a defeated Scott.

The second I stepped foot into our home, though relieved that the Alpha had not come and killed them both, I immediately gazed around at the destruction.

"Oh, come on!" I cried out, as both sweating and bruised males looked up at my annoyed human face. "You couldn't have taken this outside? It's not like this place isn't a bit enough shithole!"

Huffing and puffing, Scott stumbled to his feet whilst Derek cracked his neck and reverted back to his normal form.

"You killed the bus driver!" he yelled, eyes still yellow, though his face was back to normal, as well.

"No I didn't," Derek barked back, whilst I was left to fill in the blanks.

Obviously that bus driver had bit the dust…

"It's not your fault, and it's not mine," he continued to look harshly at McCall.

"It's not mine either," I piped up, but no one paid me any attention.

"This? This is all your fault!" Scott shouted, taking a step forward, as did my cousin. "You ruined my life!"

"No, I didn't!" Derek yelled back, and fearing round two would literally level my trashed home, I stepped between the two of them, shoving each overly aggressive male away from one another.

"No he didn't, Scott," I defensively stood up for my older cousin.

Auburn-ish yellow eyes darting over to me, he cried out in frustration: "But he bit me!"

"No I didn't!" Derek growled from behind me.

"What?" McCall seemed more confused than skeptical.

"He's not the one that bit you," I crossed my arms, cocking my head to the side as I gave him a serious look.

Heart rate dropping, Scott's puzzled eyes soon returned to their usual chocolate-brown color.

Stepping forward, I took his hand and made him touch the large gash on his chest.

Eyes widening, I knew that the touch of his own blood would trigger those memories of the past night that he was so desperate to recall.

"T-there's another…"

"It's called an Alpha," Derek cut off a stunned Scott. "It's the most dangerous of our kind. Us three, we're betas… this thing is more powerful, more animal than any of us."

Horrified, Scott then glanced at me questioningly, and when he did, I solemnly nodded my head, affirming every dark thing Derek was saying.

"My sister came here looking for him and he killed her," my older cousin spoke ominously.

"And now, we're trying to find him," I came in, and then glancing back at my stiffly nodding cousin, I added: "But… we can't do it without you…"

"W-why me?" the young werewolf stuttered.

"Because he's the one that bit you, Scott. You're part of his pack," I responded, and then knowing he needed to hear the harsh reality, I inhaled deeply and looked into his wide brown eyes: "You're the one he wants."


	8. Chapter 8

**HOLY MOLEY! So many new follows and favorites! Thank you guys so much! It means a lot to get positive support on stuff like this! So keep it up! And comment if you have any suggestions.**

**Special thanks to _EmeraldGrey22_ for your positive critique about making chapters longer to engage the audience more! Breaking this episode into 2 chapters like you said, so hopefully this flows better! :)**

**I also only own my OC, her background (which you'll learn more about soon, I promise!), and how she interacts with the original canon plot!**

**Okay, well I'm done rambling! Hope y'all enjoy this, and comment if yah feel the urge or find the time! xoxo marahh**

**EIGHT: BAD KARMA **

The wind howled as icy rain whipped my rosy cheeks, and as I trudged along the muddy road towards school, I watched the wisps of my own breath and cigarette smoke disappear into the stormy sky above.

Good thing I decided to throw my red flannel on over my white tee, for my entire body was soaked through from the pelting rain.

And although any normal person would have been in a rush to find cover from the morning thunderstorm, I was not.

I needed this walk desperately after the massive fight Derek and I had had the evening before.

The moment Scott had left our home, I decided to tell my cousin of the run-in I had with the Alpha, but the moment I shared that information with him, I immediately regretted it.

He was absolutely furious that I ran after it alone, but Derek would have done the same exact thing.

He wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to chase after it and make it pay for Laura's death, and when I voiced this obvious fact, could he even agree with me on that?

No! Of course not!

He had to climb up on that damned high horse of his and state that he would have been able to control himself… as opposed to my irresponsible and reckless actions.

What if a hunter had seen me and tracked me back to the house, he asked. Or worse, what if the Alpha did?

I told him he was being overly paranoid, and that I honestly believed that for some strange reason, the Alpha actually led me back to our burned house… probably to make sure Scott didn't get hurt during their little brawl.

But alas, as always, all of my thoughts went in one ear and out the other, and so after about two and a half hours of screaming until we were both blue in the face, Derek stormed off.

Good riddance is what I originally thought, taking my time alone in the house to clean up a bit and unwind by reading 'Red Dragon', but as early evening turned to late evening, and late evening turned to early morning, my anger turned to worry.

Derek and I _hated_ small towns like Beacon Hills.

There was absolutely nothing to do around here and everything closed so goddamn early… so where was he?

I worried the hunters had found him, or that maybe he went to go track the Alpha alone and got into trouble.

Deciding to give him a call, I was sent directly to voicemail, and I knew that he was either ignoring my calls, or his phone was off.

Either way, I sat and watched from my bedroom window, hoping to see his no doubt tired body from a long night of running about, but as the sun slowly peaked through the trees and my alarm went off, I knew Derek was not going to be coming home.

Telling myself he was just being a dramatic baby, trying to prove that I needed him and couldn't last a day without my all-knowing older cousin to boss me around, I decided to go about my day as if it were any other.

Screw him, I thought. See if I care…

And so, as I made my way up Beacon Hills High Schools' front steps, arriving the earliest I ever have in my entire life, I tried to ignore the nagging pit in my stomach.

Derek's fine. He's just trying to prove a point…

"Oh my God!" I heard a familiar voice from behind me.

Turning around, I saw Lydia, Danny, and Kyle all staring at my drenched form.

"You look…" the strawberry blonde furrowed her brows as she tried to search for an appropriate word, "I mean, you can usually pull off the grungy look, but this…" she peeled a piece of my dripping raven black hair off my scalp.

"Wait, is it raining outside?" Danny grinned as Kyle sniggered.

Giving them all a slightly irritated look, I sourly mumbled: "Bite me, Mahealani."

Chuckling, he wrapped his arm around me and said: "Aw, someone's a little cwanky this morning."

"Dude, lay off her," Kyle oddly became quite serious, making all present stare up at him with surprised looks.

Clearing his throat, the Irish boy then assessed my shivering body and took off his lacrosse jacket.

And as his bright blue eyes avoided everyone's somewhat stunned faces, he offered me his coat.

"Ugh, here," he muttered, holding it out.

Raising my brows, I looked from his genuinely sheepish expression to a still-staring Lydia and Danny, and after an awkward moment or two, Lydia sighed in exasperation: "Oh for God's sake!"

Yanking the sports jacket out of his hands, the girl's hazel eyes gave me a harsh look as she threw it around my trembling body.

"Now say thank you," she hissed in my ear.

"Um, yeah," I awkwardly stated, feeling odd about how out of character Kyle seemed to be acting. "Thanks…"

Forcing a small, appreciative smile, making Greenberg grin dopily back, Lydia then impatiently yanked me down the hall towards our lockers as I heard Danny snigger: "So smooth, man."

"You know, you really need to learn to have better social skills. Being the new girl won't last as an excuse for long," Lydia shook her head.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, sliding my frozen arms into the toasty, over-sized jacket.

"I'm serious! And he was just trying to be nice," she continued, making the now crowded hallway part as we passed through.

"I know… I just… I just don't like when people are…"

"What? Nice to you?" she cut me off, brows raised.

"No… I guess I just don't like the attention," I mused out loud.

Hazel eyes watching intently, she then responded: "Well, get used to it. Pretty girls like you and me... we're _always_ the center of attention, so might as well start enjoying it."

Gnawing on my lip, I noticed that every pair of eyes in the corridor was indeed on us, making me feel even more on edge.

Great. I hated people staring, and now I was fully aware of it.

"Hi, guys!" I relaxed a bit as I saw a beaming Allison standing in front of her locker. "Whoa, you look… wet…"

Taking in her crooked, dimpled grin, I nodded, tussling my slowly drying locks.

"Didn't your cousin drive you," she asked the obvious question while Lydia slapped my hand away and began trying to fix my hair for me.

God, she was such a control freak…

"No, I _wanted_ to walk thirty minutes in the middle of a monsoon," I responded flatly, trying to ignore Lydia's muttering over whether or not she could make me look presentable.

Chuckling at my cranky response, Allison continued to gather her things as she asked: "Well where _was_ Derek?"

"Good question," I muttered under my breath.

"What?" she asked, brows raised.

"What?" I asked back, realizing I must have voiced my own, bleak thoughts.

Making a face, the brunette with curled hair shrugged and stated: "Well, next time, call me. I'll pick you up."

"Thanks," I offered a weak smile, finally being fed up with Lydia's hovering and shooing her away.

"Fine! Look like a wet rat!" she snapped, turning her full attention onto Allison and leaving me free to pack my bag for the day.

"So… Scott's going to your place tonight, right?" her bubbly voice oozed.

"It's just studying," Allison responded, catching my amused smirk.

"Oh, please. 'Just studying' _never _ends with just studying," the strawberry blonde grinned wickedly. "It's like a hot tub… somebody always ends up copping a feel…"

Furrowing her brows and shutting her locker, Allison innocently asked: "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Lydia sighed as the two girls now moved to where I was, under the wrong impression that I wanted to be part of their silly gossip. "Make sure he… you know… covers up."

Blank brown eyes darting between Lydia and I, the queen bee's words clearly went over Allison's head.

"She means make sure he wears a condom," I closed my own locker, zipping my white leather tote.

"_What_? After the first date?" Allison's voice was high.

"Oh, don't be a prude," Lydia waved off the wide-eyed girl gawking at the both of us.

"She doesn't have to go all the way, Lydia," I decided to join in, not usually seeing Allison Argent so flustered and quite excited to take advantage of the rare opportunity for some fun. "She just needs to give him a taste."

Staring back at my wickedly grinning face, Lydia beamed just as wide.

"See? Socially inept Charlie even gets it!" she giggled as we all took off towards English.

"Well… how much is a, ugh, a 'little taste'?" Allison tentatively asked.

"Oh, God," I groaned. "You really like him, huh?"

Shooting a sniggering Lydia a harsh look, Allison's stony expression melted away the moment she began gushing over Scott: "Well, I mean he's just different…"

"Tell me about it," I stated under my breath while the brunette thoughtfully continued.

"I mean, I had a plan… no boyfriends until college… since I move too much, but then I met him, and he's just so…"

"_Different_?" I mocked her with a teasingly dreamy voice, causing Lydia to break out into more furious giggles.

"I don't know, okay?" a vexed Allison swatted at me. "I can't explain it."

"I can," Lydia finally calmed down a bit. "It's your brain flooding with phenylethylamine…"

Taken aback by the usually ditsy teen's extremely literate response, Allison and I merely gaped at her.

"What?" the brunette asked, whilst I shrugged in complete ignorance over what phenyleth-something was.

"Nevermind," she brushed off our questions and ignored our awe-struck faces, "I'll tell you what to do."

And as we stepped inside our English class, Lydia dragged the anxious and adorably inexperienced Allison to their seats so that they could discuss a game plan for that evening's 'study' date.

Sliding into my own desk, I tried to ignore Allison and Lydia's irrelevant conversation about how to 'come on strong but not too strong', and simply stared out the window at the pelting rain.

Drumming my fingers on the desk, my thoughts traveled back to Derek.

Yes, not just a few hours ago did I wish he would simply disappear, but now that he was gone, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

What if something serious had happened?

No! He was fine! Derek was _always_ fine!

"So did the Alpha kill the bus driver?" Stiles whispered as he and Scott sat in their respective seats.

"I don't know," Scott mumbled back, smiling and waving to Allison before she was snapped at to pay attention by Lydia.

"Does Allison's dad know about the Alpha?" Stilinski's voice was rushed and excited as he rocked back and forth in his chair.

"I don't know!" Scott snapped, as our teacher began handing back our first major term paper.

Watching everyone receive their grades, McCall shifted uneasily in his seat and hissed: "Just stop asking questions, man."

"Done," Stiles nodded jerkily. "No more questions."

Leaning back in his seat, he stole a look at Lydia and Allison, who were now done talking and looking at their papers.

Tapping the desk with his pencil, the kid couldn't help himself from continuing to ramble: "No more talk about the Alpha… or Derek." Pausing thoughtfully, Stiles then continued: "Especially Derek, who still scares me…"

Rolling his eyes, Scott and his best friend simultaneously noticed that I was currently staring at them.

"Not that he's not a loveable guy," Stiles offered with a weak chuckle.

Merely shaking my head with an impatient sigh, I looked up and took the Scarlet Letter paper from my teacher.

"Very well written, but I believe I asked you all to analyze a particular character, not make a ten page thesis on how double standards about women with… um, healthy sexual appetites… still persist in today's society," he chided me.

Coughing and sputtering at the teacher's words, I shot a wide-eyed Stiles and Scott a dangerous look, grabbing the grade-A paper that received a C+ by the closed-minded sexist that was my English teacher.

Frowning sourly at the unphased teacher, I sank back in my chair.

God, high school was a bust.

"Not your best, McCall," I heard him give even more bad news, but it was Stiles' loud guffaw the prompted me to look over.

"Dude! You need to study more," Stilinski's light brown eyes stared down at Scott's giant red D-.

Shooting his best friend an irritated look, Stiles then coughed and stated with a straight face: "That was a joke… but seriously, if you want help studying…"

"No," he growled back.

"Of course you don't you," I whispered with a small smirk.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, eyes darted between his best friend and I. "What does she mean?"

"Scott's studying with Allison after school today," I mockingly cooed.

Raising his brows, Stiles grinned and clapped his buddy's back enthusiastically: "That's my boy!"

Flushing a bright pink hue, Scott's chocolate brown eyes looked over to the completely oblivious Allison sitting in front of me.

"We're just studying," he hissed, giving me a pointed look while I smugly crossed my arms.

"Ugh, no you're not!" Stiles shook his head vehemently.

"I'm not?" McCall furrowed his brows.

Jesus, he was just as naïve as Allison…

"Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you!" Stiles voice was rushed and shrill. Then, leaning forward with an extremely frantic expression, he threatened his best friend: "If you go to her house today and squander this _colossal_ opportunity, I swear to God I'll… I'll have you de-balled!"

The rest of the class went on like this.

A few minutes of silence until Stilinski felt the need to pressure his nervous best friend some more, only to be snapped at and remain quiet for the next ten or so minutes.

Thankfully, however, the rest of the day went by relatively fast, with no more incessant bickering to make my migraine worse, and before I knew it, I was packing up to go home.

"Ready?" Allison asked as I tucked my finally dry, wavy black hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, but are _you_?" I raised my brow with a small crooked smile.

"Don't start… I literally had to listen to Lydia all day and now I'm freaking out," she verbalized her internal panic.

"Oh, what does Lydia know?" I asked as we walked through the crowded hallway.

"I mean, she _is_ dating Jackson," Allison responded thoughtfully.

"Exactly… she's dating Jackson… kid's not exactly a catch," I answered with a grin.

Chuckling a little, Allison nodded her head before asking me: "So you really think it'll be okay?"

"It'll be fine," I reassured her some more, only to suddenly stop in my tracks.

"What? What is it?" she asked.

Rummaging through my bag, I realized I had left my pills in my locker.

"I, um, left something in my locker," I mumbled, piercing headache coming on the second I realized I hadn't taken my usual dosage of Xanax and Vicodin all day.

No wonder why I was so worried about Derek…

See, Charlie, nothing to freak out over…

"Want me to come with?" Allison offered.

"No!" I blurted out rather rudely, but when I saw her somewhat confused and inquisitive look, I tried to sound more casual: "I mean… it's fine… I'll just meet you and Lydia outside."

Brown eyes looking at me closely, she trailed off: "Okay…"

Giving her an awkward grin, I nodded and jogged off down the hall, mentally chastising myself for how uncool I had just acted.

As if keeping the fact that I was werewolf wasn't hard enough, now I almost let slip that I was some pill-popping junkie.

Yanking my locker open, I pushed through the clutter and found my little compact of joy, sighing with relief.

Opening it up, I popped the white and blue cocktail into my mouth, swallowed, and threw it back into my Prada bag.

Then, as I closed my locker, I jumped back in surprise to find Jackson's cold blue eyes staring down at me.

"Jesus Christ!" I yelped, heart hurting from being startled so badly.

"Charlotte Hale," he crossed his arms, jaw clenched.

Ordinarily I would've freaked out on him for saying my full name, but the look that boy had on his face… I knew something was off.

"Jackson Whittemore," I responded stiffly, curtly nodding before turning to walk away.

"I know your cousin," he spoke up, his voice echoing through the empty hallway and making me freeze. "It's Derek, right? Derek Hale?"

Slowly turning to face him, my eyes narrowed dangerously as I crossed my arms and protectively asked: "Yeah, what about him?"

"You know, I should've seen it before… you both got the whole druggie vibe going on… social outcasts, bad attitude, secretive, always watching," he slowly advanced towards me.

Eyeing him closely, I tried to keep my heart rate down.

Having some man predatorily approach me like that made me instinctively tense, and my pills hadn't quite kicked in yet.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I raised my brows, seemingly over this entire conversation.

"I saw you take those pills," he pressed some more, standing over my defiant form. "Probably the same ones Scott's been using…"

Haughtily laughing in his face, I looked up at the seething captain of the lacrosse team: "Just cause Scott's mopping the field with you doesn't mean he's on something…"

"Don't lie to me!" he barked in my face, causing me to jerk back a step.

Temper flaring up, I balled my fists as I tried to steady my breathing.

"No one gets that good… that _strong_ out of nowhere," his voice was low, blue eyes blazing treacherously.

"You know, you really shouldn't get so jealous, Jackson," I replied with a fake smile. "Green's not really your color."

Turning on my heel, I went to leave the conversation, fearing I'd possibly lose control in front of the all ready suspicious human, but Whittemore was not having it.

Grabbing my arm rather gruffly, he yanked me back.

Glaring up at him, I felt my heart beating erratically.

"Don't touch me," I growled menacingly.

"Ever since you guys came to Beacon Hills, things have gotten… weird… with McCall magically becoming the next big thing, and then your cousin just came stumbling in here this morning and…"

"My cousin what?" I cut him off, suddenly panicking a bit.

Derek was _here_? At school? When and_ why_?

"He came here asking for McCall, and when I called him out on his little roid business, the guy attacked me… probably was tweaked from trying his own stash too much," he recalled, looking disgusted.

"What do you mean 'tweaked'?" my mind was racing.

"Are you listening to me?" Jackson snapped, aggressively stating: "Your cousin physically assaulted me… I have the marks to prove it."

And as the kid showed me his scratched neck, my eyes widened.

WHAT THE HELL DID DEREK DO?

"Now, if you guys don't want me to press charges and keep this whole thing under wraps, I think I should get some free samples of whatever you're giving to Scott," he smugly offered me an ultimatum.

"You're crazy," I mumbled, mind racing as I tried to run off and track Derek.

Something _really_ bad must have happened to make my cousin lose control like that…

Roughly grabbing me, Jackson made the mistake of laying his hands on me one more time.

Impatient and worried about my no doubt endangered cousin, I lost all control and shoved him with inhuman strength into the locker, denting it a little.

"Listen to me, you little _shit_," I snarled, glaring up into his now petrified blue eyes. "If you know what's good for you, you're gonna leave this whole thing alone," then, going up on my tip-toes, my face just mere inches from his shaking one, I hissed: "And if you ever threaten me, or my family again, well… let's just say you won't be _around_ to report any assault."

Then, letting the terrified human go, I stormed off, body trembling as I tried to keep myself from shifting, only to find that my freshly painted fingernails were now claws.

My eyesight was blurry, vision toggling between color and black and white as I tried to keep my head on straight.

Pushing open the heavy double-doors, I was blinded by the harsh sunlight.

At least it was no longer raining.

Eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight, I shielded my face, unable to hear anything besides my beating heart.

Did Jackson see me in the middle of transition?

Had Derek _really_ scratched him?

Was Derek even okay?

My chest was tightening, and the pills weren't helping.

Stumbling down the steps, I walked behind the buses, trying to stay hidden from Lydia and Allison patiently waiting by Jackson's car.

Calm down, Charlie… breathe… just focus on breathing…

Hunched over, I closed my eyes tightly, my stomach doing tumble-saults.

What if Jackson actually found out what was going on? Or Allison?

What if word got around and the hunters caught wind?

I knew that once they got our names they'd hunt us halfway across the country…

Everything was getting out of hand.

I dry heaved.

I dry heaved again.

"Whoa," I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Whoa, Charlie, are you okay?"

Unable to look up, I continued to pant as my mind matched the voice with the face.

I swallowed, eyes still closed as I pitifully nodded my head.

"I-I'm fine," I breathed, feeling a warm hand on my back.

Opening my eyes, I stared down at my still muddied booties, relieved to see that I could tell the yellow parking space lines from the gravel.

"You don't look fine," Stiles muttered, as I slowly stood up, body swaying a little.

Propping myself up against one of the buses we were standing between, I looked up at his concerned light brown eyes.

"It, ugh, must've been the hot lunch," I muttered, feeling more at ease.

"You think you got sick from mac and cheese?" he inquired, brow raised and obviously not believing my poor lie.

Feeling a lot better, I had to chuckle and admit: "No, not really."

Running a hand through my hair, a stood straight up and readjusted the bag on my shoulder.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, still watching me intently. "I mean, I could give you a ride if you don't feel up to walking."

Smirking despite myself, I thought it was sweetly ignorant to think a werewolf wouldn't be able to manage a half hour walk home.

"I'm a big girl," I stated as we emerged from between the buses and stood in front of his blue Jeep, "I'll think I'll be okay."

Nodding, Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet as he stared at Jackson and Lydia now kissing passionately across the lot from his car.

"O-okay, yeah," he stated distractedly.

"Well," I said slowly, eyes going from the earnest kid to the most annoying PDA couple I have ever met. "See yah around."

"Yeah, sure… see yah," he hopped into the Jeep rather clumsily whilst I continued on my walk home, unsure as to how I went from a horrible panic attack to feeling so collected so fast.

Putting those negligible thoughts aside, I decided to focus on Derek.

Now that my mind was clearer, I tried to figure out what could have happened to make him freak out on Jackson like that.

Was someone following him?

Was he hurt?

Where would he go if he were in trouble?

I knew our house wasn't the safest place to go, since the cops were always sniffing around, so if I were my older cousin, where would I go?

Then, when I was halfway across the fields, it dawned on me.

He came to school asking for Scott…

Spinning around, I took off, unable to stop myself from feeling slightly offended that Derek decided to search for McCall over his own flesh and blood.

I had no time to mull over the subject, however, for the second I turned the corner into the lot, there was Derek, limp body being held up by a panicky Scott and Stiles.

"What are you doing here?" I heard Scott's shrill voice ask, his chocolate brown eyes scanning the parking lot filled with mostly inattentive teens.

"I was shot," Derek grimaced, and as I tried to approach as calmly as possible, I heard his dull, slow beating heart.

No wonder why he attacked Jackson… he was in horrible shape…

"He's not looking so good, dude," Stiles voiced the obvious.

"Why aren't you healing?" McCall asked as they propped him up against the Jeep.

"I… can't," Derek panted, voice filled with pain. "It was… it was a different kind of bullet…"

"A silver bullet?" Stilinski almost sounded excited, no doubt hoping that all his research on werewolf folklore was paying off.

"No, you idiot," my older cousin hissed as he shot the kid a harsh look.

"Wait, wait," Scott thought out loud, "that's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours…"

"What? Who said 48 hours?" I finally arrived, grabbing Derek's stubbly face roughly and giving him a quick once-over.

Yup. He was in bad shape, all right…

"T-the one that shot him," Scott stated as both he and his best friend exchanged confused looks as to how I just suddenly showed up.

Head drooping a bit, I looked around and noticed Allison beginning to walk towards us.

Shit.

Not good. Not good.

"I'm putting him in your car," I hoisted my cousin up with Scott's help, whilst a frantic Stiles followed us in vehement protest.

"What? No!" he yelped as I pushed him into the passenger seat.

Ignoring the thoroughly unhappy teenager, I looked Scott hard in the face: "You need to find out what kind of bullet they used."

"How the Hell am I supposed to do that?" he cried, realizing that we were slowly attracting more and more attention.

"Cause she's an Argent," Derek grimaced in pain as he clutched his bleeding arm. "She's with them."

What? Who's an Argent?

Did he know who shot him?

Wait… they couldn't be talking about Kate… could they?

Eyes widening, I gave my cousin a look while he avoided my gaze.

"Why should I help you?" Scott asked, unaware that I was literally shooting daggers at my lying asshole of an older cousin.

"Because you need me," Derek panted.

Glancing at Stiles' opposing expression, and then at the quickly approaching Allison, McCall eventually sighed in frustration: "Fine! I'll try!"

Then he turned, putting his arm around Allison and steering her away from the entire sketchy situation.

"I hate you for this!" Stiles moaned after his best friend angrily before turning to look at my frowning face.

"Looks like I'm gonna be taking that ride after all…"

* * *

"I can't believe you! You gave me such a hard time about going after the Alpha alone, and then what do you do? Go chasing after the damned thing yourself!" I ignored a whimpering Stiles as he continued to unhappily mutter to himself as he drove down the desolate road. "You're a hypocrite!"

"You could've led it straight to our house! To Scott!" Derek barked back, wincing a bit as his color faded by the minute.

"Oh please," I snottily retorted, "Like it couldn't hear your little cat fight from miles away…"

"I think you mean dog fight, or wolf fight," Stilinski corrected me, but when my cousin and I merely glared at him threateningly, he sank back in his seat and cleared his throat nervously: "You know what? Nevermind… forget I said anything…"

Shaking my throbbing head, I searched through my bag.

"That's right, Charlie," Derek hissed, green eyes staring at me in disapproval from his position in the front seat. "Go take another one…"

Face burning with embarrassment and rage, I glanced at Stiles' perplexed light brown eyes and then ripped my hand out of the bag.

"At least I've been keeping my shit together," I shot back, causing my older cousin to snort in amusement. "Go ahead, laugh away. It's not like I'm the one showing up at schools and attacking students…"

"_What_? You attacked someone?" Stilinski nearly swerved off the road while Derek glared at my smug face.

I knew he would've kept that slip up from me for as long as possible.

"No, he just roughed someone up a little… nothing major… right, Derek?" I cocked my brow, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah well, whatever… could you just try not to bleed out on my seats? Okay?" Stiles reprimanded Derek, his brows raised as he frantically looked at my older cousins hemorrhaging arm. "We're almost there…"

"Almost where?" I asked, ignoring Derek's harsh green eyes.

"Your house," the teenage boy with short brown hair responded simply.

"What? No! You can't take us there!" I spoke agitatedly.

Glancing between both my cousin and I, Stiles asked in confusion: "I can't take you to your own house?"

"Not after this genius just got himself shot by a hunter," I responded for my fuming cousin. "The place isn't exactly the safest…"

Pulling over to the shoulder, Stiles turned to look at us somewhat peevishly: "All right… but what happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hm?"

And as me and Derek exchanged looks, we both decided to not freak out the edgy kid any further with the grim truth.

"Are you dying?" his voice was high pitched, eyes wide.

"Not yet," Derek mumbled, "I have a last resort…"

Nervous eyes darting over to me, I simply shrugged making him inquire: "What do you mean 'last resort'?"

Taking in the image of my quickly fading cousin, I leaned between the front two seats and yanked his wounded arm onto the armrest.

"OW!" he roared, eyes flashing blue while Stiles watched on in interest.

"Don't be a pussy," I muttered, pulling his jacket sleeve up to examine the bullet wound.

It was worse than I expected.

Pulsating with black poison spreading out from where the bullet was still embedding in his flesh, I heard Stiles gag.

"Oh my God!" he cried out, while I stuck my face closer to the discolored and sickly arm. "What is that?"

Gingerly touching the entry wound, some blackened, purplish puss oozed out, causing Derek to hiss in agony while Stiles jerked back against his door.

"Oh my… is… is that contagious?" he looked just as pale as my slowly dying cousin. "Y-you know what? You should probably just get out," his disgusted face was now a greenish color, light brown eyes horrified. "Like right now."

Swatting my hand away, Derek rolled down his sleeve and winced: "Start the car… now."

"I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay?" Stiles mouthed off, clearly just as fed up with my impossible cousin. "In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out in the middle of the road and leave you for dead."

Observing my furious cousin trying to remain calm and a defiant Stiles Stilinski, I couldn't help but grin.

Kid had balls. I had to give him that.

"Start the car, or I'm gonna rip your throat out," Derek spoke quietly and evenly. "With my teeth."

Staring back at his serious face for a moment or two, Stiles then glanced at me for help.

Ordinarily I would've loved to take the opportunity to irritate Derek some more, especially after how big of a jerk he had been, but I knew time was of the essence, so I merely sat there.

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, the frowning, eccentric teen restarted the engine and turned the Jeep around, going back to angrily muttering to himself.

We drove in uncomfortable silence for about five minutes, and as Derek and I continued to glower at one another, Stiles' phone went off.

Perking up, he clumsily felt around his pockets, sighing in relief as he answered: "Scott! What the Hell? I texted you like ten times!"

"I was busy," I heard McCall lie through his teeth.

Yeah, I'm sure you were…

"Sure you were," Stiles read my mind, though he didn't seem as happy as I was for his friend about getting some action. "What am I supposed to do with him?"

"Take him somewhere… anywhere," Scott's voice was hushed, no doubt hiding from Allison and the entire house of hunters.

"And by the way," Stiles leaned over and sniffed the rancid air around my poisoned cousin. "He's starting to smell…"

"Smell? L-like what?" Scott asked.

"Like death," Stiles' brown eyes glanced at my cousin's deadly gaze, which was now steadily on the Jeep's driver.

"Okay… then take him to the, ugh, the animal clinic!" the new werewolf suggested urgently.

Chuckling, I couldn't help but think just how fitting that was.

"What about your boss?"

"He's gone by now. There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster," Scott directed his best friend.

And as Stiles opened his mouth to respond, I pulled the phone out of his hands, making him grunt in vexation.

"Did you find it?" I inquired, and though I was still thoroughly pissed off at my idiotic and irritating older cousin, the way Derek was looking right now made me nervous.

What if 48 hours was an overestimation?

"How am I supposed to find one bullet? They have a million!" he hissed anxiously. "This house is like the fricken Wal-Mart of guns!"

"Look, if you don't find it…" I had to trail off, making Derek reach a burly arm behind and take the cellphone from me.

"You don't find the bullet, I'm dead, all right?" his voice was weak, but still as bullying as ever.

"I'm starting to think that won't be such a bad thing," McCall muttered.

"Then think about this… the Alpha called you out against your will last night and he's gonna do it again, but next time you either kill or he'll kill you," Derek's breathing was getting more and more shallow. "So if you wanna stay alive, you need me. Find the bullet. Fast."

And as Derek hung up the phone, his trembling hand gruffly dropping it in Stiles' extended one, I realized that this situation was becoming much more dire than expected.

Watching his glassy green eyes rolling back and slowly shutting, I leaned forward and shook his broad shoulders.

"Derek! Derek! Stay awake!" I commanded gruffly, but as his head limply fell to the side, I immediately forgot about how much I wanted to throttle my older cousin.

Eyes widening, I felt my chest tighten as I stared at the just as freaked driver.

"Stiles," I almost whispered, voice trembling as I gazed at my colorless, unresponsive last remaining family member. "Drive faster."


	9. Chapter 9

**EEEK! I came on and saw a ton of new followers and favorites! THANK YOU GUYS! I hope you're all enjoying the story!**

**This chapter has a bit of a cute moment for Charlie/Stiles, and since I'm sure a romance themed fanfiction is what caught most of your attention, I really hope you 1. see his/her conversation as believable for the Teen Wolf canon and 2. I hope you like seeing a certain side of the usually hard-faced, unemotional Charlie Hale!**

**Okay, well I only own my OC and I hope y'all like this chapter!**

**ENJOY! (and review if you want to!) xxx marahh **

**NINE: DO I WANNA KNOW?**

"Derek!" I shook my older cousin violently, my usually calm façade completely dropped. "Come on! Wake up!"

His skin was the palest I had ever seen, and as I pushed my head against his chest, his shallow breathes we barely audible… even to me…

"Stiles," I turned frantically to face the kid staring helplessly back at me from outside the Jeep. "Find that key! Now!"

"Y-yeah… right," he hopped to it, tripping over himself as he began searching around the dumpster.

"Derek… come on you pain in the ass," I forced a laugh, jostling him some more, but my grim grin soon faded when he didn't respond. "STILES!"

"H-hold on!" I heard him shifting things around in the dark. "Just hold on!"

"Hurry up!" I barked urgently, turning back to Derek and as my heart pounded in my eardrums, I knew I had to do something.

Scanning the messy Jeep, I saw a silver guardian angel pin clipped to the passenger side mirror.

Taking a deep breath, I gritted my teeth and breathed: "Sorry, cousin, but I gotta do it…"

"I got it! I got it!" Stiles wielded the key with a proud grin, and as he rushed over to us, he caught my currently sizzling hand forcing the silver pendant against the unconscious Derek's cheek.

"AH!" he roared, hazy green eyes popping open and flashing blue.

Tossing the pendant back into the car, I myself was clutching my burned hand in agony, but all I could manage was a sigh of both relief and slight pain.

"Thought I lost you there," I breathed, watching my bubbling skin start to heal itself.

"What the Hell, Charlie?" Derek griped, going to touch his face, only to yelp out in more pain from his extremely discolored and bloodied arm.

"All right, big boy, let's get you inside," I ducked under his burly arm, helping him stand.

Glancing over at the somewhat shell-shocked Stiles merely staring at us, I then asked impatiently: "You waiting for an invitation?"

Immediately nodding, the pale boy with short brown hair took Derek's other side and we dragged his dead weight up to the front door.

Fumbling with the keys for a moment, Stilinski finally unlocked the animal clinic, propping the heavy doors open as I practically carried my limp older cousin inside.

"Almost there," I panted, allowing Stiles to lead the way down the dark corridor.

"In here," he called back, pushing open the swinging doors of the closest treatment room.

And as I finally got my older cousin propped up against the cold examination table, Stilinski's phone rang.

"Scott! Dude where are… what?" he asked, eyes watching me gingerly peel the blood and puss soaked leather jacket off Derek's trembling body.

"What's it called? Aconit napel bleu _what _?" he struggled with the pronunciation of something as he continued their frantic conversation.

If I wasn't too busy listening to Derek's heart beat and slowly pumping blood I would have been able to hear what Scott was saying, but due to how distracted I was, I simply demanded over my shoulder: "What's he saying?"

"Does northern blue monkshood mean anything to you guys?" he raised his brows over at us.

Letting my head drop, I let out a heavy, frustrated sigh: "Shit…"

Did she really have to use _that_ plant?

"What?" Stilinski's mouth was slightly opened as he watched me mopping up some of the purplish black liquid still oozing from Derek's pulsating arm.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," my cousin panted, his puffy red eyes becoming glassier by the second.

"He's gotta bring us that bullet," I ran a hand through my hair, mind racing.

How high of a dosage was in that bullet?

How much time did my cousin have left?

I needed to slow the poison down.

I needed to buy Scott more time to get back here… to buy Derek more time…

"W-why?" Stiles asked, watching me rushing around the room, looking through the drawers. .

"Cause I'm gonna die without it," Derek hissed, making a small part of me happy that he still had the energy to be rude.

Swallowing hard, Stiles then muttered back into the phone: "Ugh… cause he said he's gonna die without it…"

"Could you quit chatting with Scott and do something useful!" I shouted, slamming the steel desk shut.

Eyes wide, the panicked Stiles didn't utter a single word and just snapped the phone shut obediently, no doubt cutting off his best friend still rattling off useless questions.

"W-what should I get?" he looked around.

"Ice… and a tourniquet," a slightly swaying Derek rose from his spot in the corner, crashing against the table.

"Whoa, you need to keep the moving around to a minimum," I ran over to him, "You gotta keep your heart rate down."

"I… can't," he growled, eyes flashing blue again as he began to convulse some more in agony.

"Stiles! Ice! Tourniquet! Now!" I yelled watching my usually strong older cousin deteriorating to a barely recognizable person.

His body shook violently, lips blue and eyes sunken, and his arm was now almost a completely disgusting shade of purple, with swollen black veins rising from his skin.

And as I heard Stiles running about the entire animal clinic, I slipped off Greenberg's lacrosse jacket and threw it around my feverish older cousin's broad, shaking shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Derek grumbled as he white knuckled the edge of the table. "Who's is that? It stinks like high school d-bag…"

"You're a… high school d-bag," I gave my horrible come back, mind too preoccupied to come up with a more witty response.

"Really? Is that… the best you got?" he groaned in pain, but as I caught his bloodshot green eyes, we both smirked grimly at one another.

"Sorry… I'm just a bit busy trying to keep your stupid ass alive," I responded as Stiles slipped through the swinging doors holding a long piece of cloth between his teeth and large bucket of ice in his arms.

Grabbing the cloth from his mouth, I tied the material tightly around his bicep, making Derek hiss in pain.

Stepping forward, a disturbed Stiles bit his lip and cocked his head to the side, somewhat entranced by the gruesome sight of my cousin's arm: "You know… it… it doesn't really look like anything some Echinacea and a good night sleep couldn't take care of…"

Shooting the teen an irritated look, Derek opened his mouth to yell at Stilinski, only to suddenly bend over and spew black bile all over the floor.

"Holy God!" Stiles leapt back from the splatter, eyes wide. "What the Hell is that?"

"It's my body… it's trying to heal itself," Derek wiped his mouth as I shoved his arm into the bucket of ice.

"Well its not doing a very good job of it," Stiles cried, looking as if he, too, was about to get sick.

"Stiles, don't you dare!" I barked, filling up a small glass of water at the sink before rushing it over to my cousin. "I can't deal with two sick people right now…"

Trying to make Derek drink, my stubborn cousin pushed the beverage away and wheezed: "When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me…"

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles weakly asked, still looking quite faint himself.

"Charlie," Derek looked me square in the eyes, "If Scott doesn't get back here… if he doesn't bring that bullet in time…"

I knew where he was going with this…

Hell, the moment he asked Stiles to get the tourniquet and ice, I understood what we had to do.

Nodding firmly, I spoke in dark agreement: "Last resort."

Fretful light brown eyes darting between my cousin and I, the completely lost teen asked, arms outstretched impatiently: "Which is?"

Green eyes lazily drifting to the overly energetic teenager, Derek then bluntly stated the harsh truth: "You're gonna cut off my arm."

* * *

"Oh my God!" Stiles stumbled backwards, flailing a bit as he did so, "No way. Make her do it," he pointed a trembling finger at me.

"I'm gonna have to hold him down… in case the pain makes him shift," I tried to sound calm, even though, I myself was just as freaked out about this as the human boy in front of me was.

"Which I will," Derek grimaced in pain from the poison some more, eyes flashing blue and thus proving my point.

"What if he bleeds to death?" Stilinski's voice cracked, and as my cousin's heart rate continued to slow down, Stiles' and mine picked up.

"It'll heal if it works," I tried to sound reassuring, but I could tell I looked simply terrified.

Shaking his head, the teen ran his hand over his short brown hair: "Look, I… I don't know if I can do this…"

"Why not?" Derek barked irascibly.

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially _the blood_!" he cried, bouncing a bit as he paced about the room.

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek scoffed, though his tone would have been a lot harsher had he not been on his literal deathbed.

Shooting my cousin a look, I knew this route would not going to get Stiles on board with the whole amputation plan.

"No! But I might as the sight of a chopped-off arm!" Stiles shot back, waving madly at Derek's throbbing purplish black limb.

"All right, _fine. _How about this?" Derek's voice was low and dangerous. "Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head!"

"Derek," I spoke crossly, as my weak older cousin began coughing up some more black bodily fluids.

"Okay, you know what? I'm not buying your threats anymore so…" an irritated Stiles boldly called out my cousin, making him almost lunge across the table.

"Derek!" I yanked him back, glaring at him. "Do you wanna die?" I hissed in his ear, making his hateful glare focused on a currently timid Stiles subside.

Green eyes looking down sheepishly, I then muttered: "That's what I thought."

Grabbing the saw out of the drawer, I then slowly approached the absolutely petrified teenage boy.

"Stiles, you need to do this," I handed his shaking hands the electric power tool.

"But… I… I really think you should," he pled, looking down at me with an almost pathetically cute face.

"I need to make sure that he holds still and doesn't hurt you when he shifts," I spoke softly.

Blinking as my words registered in his mind, Stilinski handed me back the power tool, unable to look me in the eyes: "I get he's your cousin, but I… I honestly don't think I can do this…"

I felt bad.

Doing this would certainly scar the poor kid, but this was literally a matter of life or death.

Taking my hand, I gently wrapped his stiff, trembling fingers around the handle of the saw and looked up into those wide, light brown eyes.

"Stiles, you found out your best friend's a werewolf and stood by him. You didn't run when he tried to kill you in the locker room… you even came back and used a fricken fire extinguisher to save me," I chuckled a bit at the memory.

"I'm still here, you know… _dying_," Derek complained while Stiles cracked a small smirk as he looked down at me.

"Not fast enough," I shot back before turning to look at the still frightened boy standing before me.

"You're not a coward. You don't run away from things… you run _to_ people… to help people in need," I stated, slowly releasing my hand, which was still placed around his; and sighing deeply, I allowed myself a moment of sincere vulnerability as I whispered, "And right now… he needs you… I need you…"

Clenching his jaw, the gawky teen looked down at my genuinely beseeching face and then to my grunting cousin.

Nodding jerkily, Stiles then rolled up his sleeves as he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves: "All right… I'll do it…"

Following him, I walked around, firmly planting myself between my cousin and the table, boxing him out.

Then, as I grabbed Derek's numb arm out of the bucket of ice, I held it down on the table as Stiles turned on the loud electric saw.

"I… I can do this," Stiles breathed, trying to convince himself as I felt Derek tense up behind me.

"Oh my God!" my older cousin roared in agony. "JUST DO IT!"

"OKAY!" Stiles yelled back, but when he saw me staring at him, I gave him a reassuring nod, making the tentative teenager sigh: "Here we go…"

And as I watched his face scrunch up in anticipation of the grizzly sight to come, I myself cringed.

Time seemed to freeze as the spinning blades hovered over my cousin's arm, and everything almost went silent.

Then, however, I heard it.

"Stiles! Charlie!" Scott's voice echoed.

"Turn it off," I pulled Derek's infected arm away in the nick of time, making the saw cut into the table a bit.

"What are you doing?" Stiles looked up in alarm, shutting the power tool off.

"What the Hell's going on?" Scott's voice made his best friend and my equally confused cousin look up in his direction.

Smiling broadly and tossing the power tool as far away from him as possible, Stiles laughed in relief: "Oh man, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares…"

Sighing myself, I asked with a small grin: "Did you get it?"

Walking into the room, Scott pulled out the long bullet from an assault rifle.

"What are you gonna do with it?" the young werewolf asked, and as he was just about to hand it to me, a loud crash interrupted the transaction.

"Derek!" I shouted, diving down next to my passed out and convulsing cousin.

"No, no, no!" I heard Scott yell, causing me to turn and see that the bullet had fallen into a small drainage grate.

Shit.

This couldn't be happening.

We're so close!

"No!" I yelped, voice cracking as what little remaining color faded from Derek's foaming face. "Derek, come on!"

"I can't reach!" Scott grunted from his spot on the floor.

Kneeling down beside me, Stiles shook my cousin while I merely cradled his head, mind completely blank.

"Scott, what the Hell do we do?" the awkward teenager called, his brown eyes taking in my distraught face as tears began to well up in my eyes.

"Derek, please!" I shook his cold body. "SCOTT, GET THE BULLET!" my voice was cracking as I felt a few hot tears escape my eyes.

No. Not Derek, too…

"I can't… I can't reach…"

"Scott, he's not waking up, man," Stiles, tried to shake Derek some more. "I think he's dying…"

"He's not dying!" I barked, rage bubbling up inside me as I wiped the tears off my cheeks furiously. "Not tonight!"

Shoving Scott out of the way, I reached into the grate and tried to reach the bullet.

It was too far down, but I knew that my claws would definitely help me reach it.

If only my mind was clear enough to shift!

Dammit, Charlie, concentrate!

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to ease my flustered mind, but when Stiles called over: "I think he's dead!" I ripped my hand out of the grate and grabbed Scott rather gruffly by the shirt collar.

"I need you to shift, but only halfway," I stated seriously, eyes darting over to a grossed out Stiles wiping the foam off Derek's open mouth.

"But… I can't… I don't know how," Scott stammered.

"Scott, make those pretty boy hands of yours turn into claws or I swear to God!" I yelled in his face.

Clearly triggering his temper, Scott's eyes flashed yellow as he pushed me out of the way.

Darting back over to Derek and Stiles, I began slapping my cousin's clammy face: "Dammit, Derek! Wake up!"

"I got it!" Scott excitedly ran over, holding up the bullet.

Pulling it from his hand, I made room on the floor and bit down on the round, pulling the shell out.

Dumping the poisoned gunpowder onto the tile floor, I demanded: "Get me my bag!"

Glancing around, Stiles obediently did so, never tearing his eyes of me as Scott asked: "What are you doing?"

"Lighter! Now!" I yelled, my heart racing as fast as my mind.

Come on, Derek, hold on just a little bit longer…

And as I stared at my cousin lying there, no longer breathing, I felt a lump growing in my throat.

"Here!" Stiles thrust the requested item into my face.

Taking it, I lit the powder on fire, making it spark up and smoke blue.

Ignoring how much holding this shit would hurt, I picked up the smoking ash, hissing in pain in the process, and then wiped it on Derek's infected arm.

Rubbing it in, I made sure to stick the sizzling powder into the actual bullet wound while Stiles gagged behind me.

And then, as I withdrew my hand, Derek's arm slowly regained its normal color.

"Holy shit," Scott mumbled, watching the black and purple veins go back into his arm, "You did it."

Smirking a bit, leaned over and wiped some of the sweat off my forehead.

"All right, cousin, rise and shine," I sighed, but when I realized that the color wasn't coming back in his pale face, I looked back up at the boys in confusion. "I don't get it… the poison's out of his system…"

Scott and Stiles then exchanged looks while I suddenly began to grow dizzy.

What was going on?

Was I too late?

Did I take too long?

Shoving my head against his chest, I listened.

Silence.

"No, Derek!" I shook him, eyes burning. "No! You can't tap out now!"

Glancing back up at Stiles and Scott with wide, tearful eyes, I shook my head, heart breaking: "He's not breathing… why isn't he breathing?"

"Charlie," Scott sadly tried to pull me away from my cousin.

"No!" I pushed him back.

He may have been ready to give up, but I wasn't…

"Charlie, I think it's too late," Scott seemed stunned as I slowly began to break down over the corpse of my older cousin and last remaining relative.

"Derek, please wake up!" I cried, tears rolling freely down my cheeks.

My heart ached.

How could this be happening?

No… this couldn't be real…

"Please don't kill me for this," I heard Stiles mutter, and as Scott and I looked up, we saw the gawky teen wind up and punch Derek straight in the face with all his might.

Green eyes popping open as he gasped for air, Stiles hopped about, shaking the pain out of his hand.

"Ow! Ow! Ugh, God!" Stilinski hissed, cradling his hand as Derek sat up, rubbing his smarting face and furiously staring at the teenager who had just decked him.

"What the…" Derek growled, but I cut him off by throwing myself onto him and hugging the walking muscle with all of my might.

At that point, I didn't give a shit who saw me.

Derek was dead… and now he wasn't…

I wasn't going to be alone in this world after all.

I still had a family. I still had Derek.

"That was awesome!" Stiles cried in prideful excitement, grinning broadly while Scott and I helped a sore Derek up to his feet.

Smiling the widest I had in a long time, I allowed some extra tears of joy to escape my eyes as I asked: "Are you okay?"

"Well, except of the agonizing pain," Derek spoke flatly, eyeing the overjoyed teen with a sharp look.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stilinski mused merrily, catching my very appreciative gaze.

Glaring at the flushed, giddy teenager, my cousin opened his mouth to say something, but Scott spoke up.

"Okay, so we saved your life… which means you're gonna leave us alone… got it?"

Glancing from Derek to Scott, I figured it was a pretty good deal, but my older cousin clearly had other ideas.

"And if I don't?" he shot back aggressively.

"Derek, come on," I tried to reason with him, but my words were ignored by all parties.

"If you don't then I'll tell Allison's dad everything," Scott was completely serious.

"You're gonna trust _them_? You really think they can help you?" my older cousin scoffed, and even I knew that telling Chris Argent was a horrible idea.

"He's right, Scott… they're hunters," I continued to try to play mediator.

"Can you blame me? They're a lot fricken nicer than him," Scott responded.

And as I opened my mouth to try to convince him to think about things a little more, Derek got into the young wolf's face.

"I can show you _exactly_ how nice they are," his green eyes were furious, no doubt at being called worse than the Argents.

"Derek, he's all ready seen the house," I stated, arms folded.

"I'm not talking about the house," he stated darkly, never taking his eyes off McCall.

Not talking about the house?

Then what _was_ he talking about?

"What do you mean?" Scott asked looking just as perplexed as I felt.

But rather than explaining anything, Derek merely turned to me and asked: "You really want to know what I've been keeping from you?"

And in that moment, I had the sinking feeling that I really didn't want to know anymore…

* * *

"What are we doing here? Who is he?" Scott McCall asked, chocolate brown eyes staring at the deformed burn victim sitting in a hospital bed.

Green eyes glancing back at my apprehensive face as I stood by the door with Stiles, Derek stated: "Peter Hale."

My stomach immediately knotted.

The moment Derek directed us to the Beacons Crossing Home, I knew that something was off.

Derek had obviously been sneaking off somewhere, but I always thought it was hunter or Alpha related, and as we sneaked through the dark hallways of the facility, I couldn't help but feel this dark, looming sensation of dread.

And now, standing from my spot in the shadowy corner and hearing those words come out of Derek's guilty mouth, I knew that my instincts were right.

Now, with the current conversation turning into a muffled, garbled, mess, time seemed to slow down.

My body was shaking as I pushed my way forward, ignoring Derek's probing green eyes and the voices of my two schoolmates, I stepped directly in front of the charred remains of the featureless John Doe.

Leaning forward, I examined his unrecognizable face masked by a mound of scar tissue.

My heartbeat was thumping against my ear-drums, and I could faintly hear Scott asking why Derek thought the Argents were responsible for the fire, but my cousin's reply sounded distorted and slowed down.

Could this really be him?

No, this shell of a man could not be Peter Hale.

He died in the fire, along with the other eleven members of my family that perished.

And as I stared at the eerily still man blankly staring out the window, I inaudibly breathed: "Peter?"

Eyes flitting immediately to meet mine, those cold, dark blue irises hit me like a massive punch in the gut.

I felt sick.

My stomach dropped as I literally tried not to the throw up right there and then.

"Charlie?" I heard Stiles' voice echo in my head.

I couldn't handle this.

I needed to leave.

Everything was spinning as I shoved through the three men now staring at me.

I stumbled down the hallway, ignoring the nurse shouting at me for trespassing.

Practically throwing myself into the cool, night air, I put my hands on my head as I hyperventilated.

I couldn't breathe.

Crashing against the wall, I slumped to the floor, gasping for air as a massive panic attack set in.

The man I hated for my entire life, the man that was literally the vilest creature I had ever come across, was alive.

My_ father _was alive.

* * *

"So this is where you've been running off to?" I screamed, voice echoing throughout our ashen home.

"Charlie…" Derek tried to calm me down as I paced about the creaky floorboards.

"How long have you known?" I demanded, eyes full with tears of betrayal.

Pausing, my older cousin's green eyes looked away from my heartbroken gaze as he muttered: "Since we got back to Beacon Hills."

"And you didn't think I should know?" I cried, my mind still unable to fully comprehend the fact that my father was actually still alive.

"Would it have made a difference?" Derek asked, arms crossed as he leaned in the corner of our old home. "You hated him…"

"Well now, I hate _you_!" I shouted, glaring at him, my pulse racing as I tried to keep myself from shifting and murdering the lying son of a bitch right then and there.

"You're overreacting," Derek sighed, though I could see in his handsome face just how guilty he felt about keeping this from me.

"You can't think it's a coincidence that Peter's alive and some random Alpha is running around killing people?" I shot back, mind replaying all of the suspicious and violent outbursts he had whenever angered during my short stay at the Hale house.

"Have you seen him?" Derek retorted in exasperation, stepping forward: "You really think he's even able to shift?"

Staring back at his raised brows, I responded darkly: "The guy's been a selfish, lying prick for my entire life. I don't see him changing anytime soon…"

"That's probably true," Derek admitted, oddly enough, before continuing to argue with me: "But Peter's our family…"

"How quick you forget you used to hate him as much as I do," I snarled, "Wasn't he the reason you went away to school?"

My older cousin opened his mouth to respond, but soon lost his voice, unable to argue with my truthful words.

He and Peter used to fight incessantly, with verbal altercations oftentimes escalating to physical conflicts.

"I've put up with a lot of your shit," my anger was slowly subsiding as sorrow took over.

Derek had lied to me.

He had kept the fact that my father was alive, and no doubt disappeared and went to Peter for advice rather than coming to me…

Lump growing in my throat, my voice trembled: "The way you looked at me for years… like I didn't deserve to survive that fire… or how you'd come home drunk and take everything out on me?" my furious, tearful eyes watched a remorseful Derek look away.

"Charlie, I'm…"

"No, Derek!" I snapped, cutting him off, allowing a few tears to escape my eyes. "We've stood together through good times and bad times… and boy, let me tell you, most of them have been _bad…_ I know I've messed up… cause I mean, you've never let me forget that night, but I thought we were in this together. I mean I literally almost died for you… and I used to think you'd do the same…"

"I would!" Derek spoke up passionately.

"How can you expect me to believe that after this?" I asked, voice cracking. "You always talk about loyalty to the pack, but where's that loyalty now, Derek?"

"Listen, I know I shouldn't have kept this from you, but Peter…"

"But Peter _what_?" I was shaking with rage.

How could Derek think he could just talk his way out of this?

Peter Hale left my mom and I, and then when my mom died and I was forced to move to Beacon Hills, he basically ignored me… calling me 'weak' for being a human.

"Do you suddenly feel some sort of allegiance to this guy?" I inquired, brows raised, hoping to God my cousin could wrap his mind around the idea that my father was a horrible person and deserved to rot in that hospital bed. "The man left me and my mom!"

"That was years ago!" my older cousin cried back in callous exasperation.

I wanted to smack him.

Sure he acted like he had no feelings, but how could he just brush off Peter's abandonment of me and my mother?

"Fine," I voice was low and dark as I stepped forward, looking up into his face. "How about the night of the fire? You never asked how I escaped…"

The moment those words left my lips, Derek became speechless.

The second he found me, huddled and whimpering in that hollowed out hole in the earth, my older cousin never once asked what happened.

He couldn't. Derek was simply unable to handle the fact that his entire family was gone, with me… some snot-nosed kid, being the only survivor…

He resented me for surviving.

He knew it, and I knew it.

And although we grew up and moved past that bitterness, it was never forgotten.

"Your mom… _your_ mom got me out… not Peter… not my own father," my voiced quaked as my mind flashed back to that horrific evening.

"People change," he pathetically contradicted himself.

Glaring back at my older cousin with hatred, I shot back: "Clearly…"

And as he stared back at me, knowing full well that those words were meant to be a shot at him, I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't handle seeing that deceitful face looking back at me.

Turning on my heel, I stormed towards our front door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, following closely behind.

"Oh, so now you give a shit about what I do?" I snarled, glaring up at him as he slammed the door closed behind me.

"Oh, come on," he tried to get out, but I spoke over him.

"I figured after so many years of having to raise your little brat of a cousin you'd be happy to see me go," I yanked the door back open, glowering back up at Derek with an expression of pure loathing.

He had treated me like shit for most of my childhood, and now, after this betrayal… I couldn't take it anymore…

"Go where?" Derek followed me onto the rotted porch. "Charlie!"

Breathing deeply as I stepped onto our weedy, patchy lawn, I turned back around: "You know, if it weren't for Laura I'd be gone right now, but I made a promise to myself that I'd make her killer pay… and the arsons who burnt this place down," my arms were outstretched as I took in the barely standing structure that used to be the Hale mansion. "So I'll work with you… help you track the Alpha that you're just so damn sure isn't the one that killed Laura, and I'll even help bring down the Argents while I'm at it, but the second we're done, the second I kill every last person that wronged _my_ family, I'm out."

"You know Omegas don't last long," Derek called after me as I began to walk down the driveway. "You need someone to watch your back!"

"Do I?" I spun around, scowling at my older cousin who was staring back at me somewhat pleadingly. "Cause the way I see it, I've been on my own for a _very _long time."

And then, turning, I walked off, breaking down in hysterical tears as I went.

I was alone.

First he put Scott's life above my own, and now, my only ally had chose to seek council from the most destructive man I had ever met.

Derek had turned his back on me.

So why was it so hard to turn my back on him?


	10. Chapter 10

**wow, wow, wow! Such awesome feedback last chapter! I'm glad some of you are really getting into this! It makes writing this soooo much more fun! I also am happy to hear your catching onto some of Charlie's character development points I put in! As well as her little moment with Stiles! :)**

**this chapter is LONG! I just didn't know where to stop it, but I left it off on a cliff hanger to keep you guys waiting for the next update! Also, this one is VERY Charlie/Stiles centered, so let me know how you think they interact together (i.e. am I making it believable).**

**Okay, well I only own my OC, and pretty, pretty please, for those of you who have followed/favorited and have a moment, make a comment! They really make my day! Okie dokie, read away my friends! :D**

**TEN: YOU RASCAL YOU**

The evening air was crisp, with a cool wind kicking up a few of the leaves that had fallen to the ground from the tree I was propped up against.

I would have been cold had I been able to feel anything, but my body was completely numb from the higher dosages of 'medicine' I had prescribed myself during the last couple days after finding out that Peter Hale was alive.

I didn't want to think about it… think about how the only person I had left, the only person I thought I could trust, had lied to me, and was now standing up for the man that literally caused me nothing but pain for my entire life.

So although my body was physically unable to feel much of anything, why was my mind still uneasy?

In a minute time-span, I'd go from wanting to break down crying, to wishing I could beat the nearest person's face back in, and then back again.

Maybe I needed to switch brands…

I mean your body could build an immunity to prescriptions, couldn't it?

Frowning as my clouded mind tried to think of a rational explanation as to why my trusty blue and whites were doing nothing to solve my turbulent emotional upheaval, I finished my cig as I continued to stare at the two shadowy figures on the roof of the local video store.

I had been avoiding Derek for the last 48 hours, but when I overheard him speaking to Scott about having caught the Alpha's scent, I snuck out and secretly tailed them.

Now, watching the flashing police cars pull up to the store, cops flooding into the rampaged building, I wondered why Scott and Derek hadn't run after the monstrous creature that had just burst through the shop window.

Why would my cousin drag our asses… well, Scott's ass since I merely followed them… out here to just watch what this thing could do?

If the sirens hadn't been so loud, perhaps I would have been able to hear what they were discussing up on the roof, but from the terrified expression on McCall's face, I could assume Derek was busy harping on the fact that the Alpha was a dangerous mother and that if he wanted to stand a chance against it, Scott needed my cousin's help.

Eyes narrowed, I watched an officer ushering out two very familiar witnesses: Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore.

Interest peaked, I straightened up and couldn't help myself from moving closer.

Stepping out of the shadows, I slowly slinked my way down the small incline and crossed the road, feeling no need to look for any oncoming cars.

My mind was too preoccupied about wondering if Jackson or Lydia had been bitten, or maybe saw something that could help me pinpoint who the Alpha was.

Wind blowing violently, I ducked under the caution tape and glanced up at the gaping Scott and Derek, suddenly hearing older cousin's heart racing angrily.

Stiffly shaking his head, he silently told me to back off.

Crooked grin tugging at my lips, I winked wickedly at him as a deputy spotted me and rushed over, stepping in my way.

"Miss, you can't be over here," his voice was stern and authoritative as he looked down at my face.

Eyes welling up, I looked up at him as my lip quivered: "I know, I know, but officer… my brother… he's over there."

Following my frantic gaze to Jackson and Lydia being tended to at the ambulance, the deputy looked back down at me as I forced myself to weep.

"T-that's your brother?" he asked, uncomfortably watching me break down in front of him.

Hyperventilating, my voice cracked as I cried: "Y-yes… oh, God, is he okay?"

And as a dead body was slowly being wheeled out of the video store, I wailed extra loud: "OH MY GOD! Is that a dead body? Oh my God! My brother, I-I need to see him… please… oh, God… please!"

Eyes darting over to the entire police force now staring at us, including Sheriff Stilinski and his wide-eyed, confused son, the deputy stammered: "You're brother is fine, but miss… I'm gonna have to tell you to take a step back…"

"Oh God, oh God, oh God! What do I tell my parents?" I ran a shaking hand through my hair, tasting my salty tears as my nose began to run.

"Deputy Marks, just let the poor girl through," his partner called over to us, and as the Sheriff gave a curt nod of approval, the officer backed off.

"Okay, go through," he sighed, stepping aside.

Sniffling, I looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes as I breathlessly stated: "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"

And as I walked away, I wiped my mascara and tear-stained face as I impassively made my way towards the oblivious Lydia and Jackson.

Damn, I'd make a great actress.

"W-what are you doing?" Stiles hissed as I walked by, light brown eyes nervously looking about.

"Going to check on my brother," I looked back over at him innocently as we let the gurney with the corpse pass in front of us.

"And they bought that?" he snorted in amusement, though when he heard Lydia's frantic voice talking to his father, his smile immediately faded.

"I sold that," I shot back, pushing past him and giving my fuming cousin one last small smirk before approaching Jackson.

Trying to look at concerned as possible, I reached out and gently touched his arm.

Flinching, he spun around, usually stoic blue eyes wide with fear.

"Charlie," he breathed, heart racing faster than Derek's irate one just above our heads. "What are you doing here?" he aggressively demanded, trying to salvage his tough-guy front, but I could see right through it.

Raising my brows, I inspected his highly suspicious face and decided to give up the charade of being worried about him.

Crossing my arms, I snarkily responded: "Came to pick up a DVD, but this is way more entertaining…"

Glaring down at me, Jackson clenched his jaw, but before he could say anything, Lydia walked over, eyes wide and somewhat vacant.

"H-he wants to speak to you now," the strawberry blonde muttered as she stared off into space and plopped down on the edge of the ambulance; Jackson simply shot me one last mistrustful look before walking over to Mr. Stilinski.

"Lydia," I spoke softly to the girl clearly in shock. "You okay?"

Not even blinking, she nodded her head in silence.

Biting my lip, I knew I needed to find out if she had seen anything, but I also understood that pushing her at this moment wasn't the brightest of ideas.

Sighing, I sat down beside her and pulled the red shock blanket around her hunched over shoulders.

Rubbing her back, I sat there quietly while Jackson screamed at the Sheriff: "I'm fine! So why can't I just go home?"

"I understand that, but the EMT said you hit your head pretty hard… they just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion," Mr. Stilinski stated apologetically.

"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having trouble grasping?" the rattled teen continued to freak out as he screamed into the Sheriff's face. "Okay, I just want to take my girlfriend and _go home_!"

"And I understand that," Mr. Stilinski's voice was patient, though I could hear his pulse quickening.

"No, you don't understand, which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you!" Jackson shouted.

Eyes shooting over to Stiles, who hadn't looked away from Lydia up until now, I saw the gawky teen clench his fists in anger.

I couldn't blame him.

If someone spoke to someone I cared about like that… disrespected them right in front of my face… I'd tear their tongue out…

And as Whittemore continued to rant, I lifted the unthinking queen bee to her feet and walked over to the Sheriff and captain of the lacrosse team.

"Okay, so I want to go home right now…"

"Um, Sheriff?" I spoke up quietly, trying to sound and appear as timid as possible.

Pissed that he wasn't getting his way, Jackson now glowered down at me, no doubt even more enraged that I cut him off.

"Yes?" he raised his brows, and though he tried to look stern, I could tell the cop was happy to have someone shut Jackson up.

"I, ugh, I can take Lydia home," I offered, trying not to grin as I stuck one to the irreverent lacrosse captain still glaring at me. "You know, so the EMT can make sure Jackson's okay…"

"I said I'm fine!" Whittemore hissed as I continued to soothingly rub the catatonic Lydia's back.

"Jackson, I know you're worried about Lydia, but I got her… so you don't need to feel guilty about taking it easy on yourself," my expression and tone of voice seemed perfectly sincere and concerned, however I knew my eyes held a mischievous glint in them.

Eyes flashing, I heard his heart rate skyrocket, and as I bit my cheek to keep from laughing, the Sheriff spoke up: "Well I think that's a fair compromise. Now you can relax and Lydia can get some rest."

Smiling broadly, I caught a stunned Stiles propped up against his father's squad car, clearly in awe that I just pulled off two Oscar-worthy performances in such a short period of time.

"But…" Jackson tried to speak up, but Sheriff Stilinski spoke right over him.

"Do you want me to have someone take you two home?"

"Well, it's not that far of a walk," I tried to sound as innocent and helpless as possible, watching a disgruntled Jackson get ushered back to ambulance, his furious gaze never leaving my calm face.

"Nonsense. I will not allow two young ladies to walk home with some wild animal running around town," he shook his head. "I'm getting you a ride…"

And as he walked off to make one of the officers escort us back to the Martin's, I muttered with a smug smile: "If you insist…"

* * *

Second venti black coffee in hand, I yawned as I dragged my body through the packed hallways.

After spending half the night sitting in Lydia's bedroom, trying to decipher her mindless babbling, I knew that with the teenager still suffering from shock, I had no chance of getting any information out of her.

So, after five hours of watching the strawberry blonde rocking herself backwards and forwards, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Lydia?" I asked, not expected her to even look at me. "Lydia, I know you saw something tonight… something the cops probably told you wasn't there…"

"A mountain lion…" she muttered her usual response.

Inhaling deeply, I tried to maintain my patience.

No doubt watching your boyfriend get attacked and some man get torn apart was traumatizing for the average human…

"Lydia, I'm going to give you something… to help you relax and rest, okay?" I began rummaging through my bag and pulled out my compact.

Opening the container, I was met with a dismal sight, indeed.

My stash was now dwindling to barely nothing, but for the moment, finding the Alpha was more important than my addiction, and getting Lydia to calm down and remember was part of it.

"Here," I handed her half of my Xanax pills, figuring I could just double up on the Vicodins until I could swipe some more. "Take one and try to sleep."

Taking her hand, I placed the pill in her palm, and suddenly, for the first time all night, Lydia's hazel eyes focused on my exhausted face.

"M-mountain lion?" she asked, voice still spaced out.

Shaking my head, I knew I shouldn't laugh at her expense, but at that point it was either give into a light chuckle or break down into tired, frustrated tears.

"It's medicine," I passed her the glass of water.

"Medicine?" she repeated, staring down at the pill.

"Yes, now put it in your mouth and drink this," I stated with an almost motherly tone of voice.

Speaking of mothers… why was no one home? Surely they received a phone call from the cops about what had happened…

Probably just another kid living with chronically absent parents…

I knew how much that sucks…

Nodding, her wide eyes became glassy as she placed the pill on her tongue, hand shaking as she took a sip of the citrus water.

Of course the Martin's only drank citrus water…

"Okay, well take another one tomorrow morning with food… I'll see you later," I put the glass back on her nightstand, and as I stood up and headed towards the door, I heard my peer call out.

"C-charlie?" her voice was trembling.

Turning back around from my spot in the doorway, I asked: "Hm?"

Singular tear rolling down her porcelain face, Lydia Martin stammered from beneath her sea of plush pillows and blankets: "T-thank you…"

Recalling that brief moment of sincere thanks from the usually boastful and proud teenage girl, I smirked to myself as I arrived at my locker.

I mean I knew I was only being kind to get what I wanted out of her, but then why was this warm, fuzzy feeling warming me from the inside?

It disgusted me…

"It's your birthday?" I heard Scott's voice ask.

Peering through the slots of my locker, I saw McCall and Argent talking.

"Uh, no," she lied, but as he raised his brows at her, she awkwardly grinned: "I mean, yes… it is, but please don't tell anybody…"

"Why?" he asked, scratching his head and readjusting the backpack that was slung over one shoulder.

"Because," she finished packing her books for the day, "I don't like people to know… cause I'm… I'm 17…"

Brows disappearing into his shaggy dark brown hair, he repeated: "You're 17?"

That's what she just said Point Dexter…

Chugging more of my coffee, I popped two Vicodins, swearing to only use my remaining Xanax when I was losing control…

"That's the reaction I was trying to avoid," Allison mumbled, frowning a bit.

"Why? I mean, I totally get it," Scott furrowed his brows, chocolate brown eyes gazing at the beautiful girl in adoration. "You just had to repeat a year cause you moved around so much…"

Smile breaking across her face, Allison looked back up at him as if she could kiss him right then and there, and that was exactly what she did.

Eyes still closed as she pulled away, Scott breathlessly asked: "W-what, ugh, what was that for?"

Grinning so that her rosy cheeks were decorated with her cute dimples, the brunette with curled hair responded: "For literally being the first person to ever make the correct assumption."

Zipping my tote bag, I closed my locker as Allison continued: "Everyone's always like did you get held back, or…"

"Did you ride the short bus," I grinned teasingly, as I walked over to the couple.

Shooting me a pointed look, Allison obviously realized I was kidding and lightly chuckled: "Yeah… something like that… even got a few people thinking I was pregnant."

"And that's what you hear on your birthday?" Scott asked whilst I sniggered at the idea of Chris Argent trying to deal with having a pregnant daughter.

"Oh yeah… all day long," she bit her lip, clearly dreading the entire day ahead of her.

Fighting a yawn, I finished my Starbucks and tossed it into the trashcan with ease: "So skip."

"What?" her and Scott asked in unison.

"Get out of here… enjoy your birthday for once," I folded my arms, raising my brows at the two straight-edged teens.

"For the whole day?" Allison inquired, still shocked that I'd suggest such an idea, however, as I looked at Scott, I saw him seriously contemplating my idea.

"No, just for study hall," I retorted sardonically.

Anxiously playing her hair, Allison ignored my sarcastic remark: "You realize your telling someone who never skipped one class, let alone bailed for an entire day…"

"No, see, that's perfect!" Scott excitedly grinned, fully on board with my plan. "If we get caught, they'll go easy on you," he explained to the clearly confused girl.

"But what if _you_ get caught?" she voiced her concern over his wellbeing.

"I'll cover for you guys," I offered, feeling oddly generous today.

The budding couple both looked at me in grateful surprise.

"Really? You'd do that?" Scott asked, chocolate brown eyes steadily watching me.

I knew he felt uncomfortable about what had happened back when we found out my father was alive, and although I wasn't mad at him, I had been avoiding the young wolf.

Derek had basically built himself a second home up Scott's ass, and because it was either pretend that my older cousin was dead or me actually kill him, I decided to stay away until I could fully handle my emotions.

"I'll try," I responded as the bell rang. "Cause, I mean, someone needs to get out of this Hell hole…"

And as I flashed the smirking couple my own crooked grin, I waved over my shoulder and headed off to muddle through yet another painful day at Beacon Hills High School.

* * *

Completely zonked out, I went through most of my day in a drugged out haze.

With Allison, Scott, and Lydia out of school, I was pleasantly surprised that I was being left alone, and most of the people who greeted me everyday barely took any notice of my exhausted form slowly going about my day.

Glad to know I'm only worth attention when Lydia Martin's around…

Whatever.

Only two more periods left…

Entering the Economics classroom, I paused by Greenberg's desk, shoving his jacket into his distracted face rather gruffly.

Looking up from the cellphone he was poorly concealing in his textbook, Kyle looked up at me and took his lacrosse warm-up.

"Hey, Charlie," he grinned, bright blue eyes happy to see me.

"I, ugh, figured you'd want this back," I muttered awkwardly, hearing Danny sniggering behind me.

"Oh, yeah… I forgot I gave it to you," he lied.

That jacket made him a member of the Beacon Hills elite, even if he did suck at lacrosse, but nevertheless, Kyle Greenberg would have never lost track of such an item.

"Yeah, thanks again," I responded, avoiding his gaze.

"No problem… if you're ever, ugh, get caught in a rainstorm again… it's always here for you," he stammered, my cold disposition throwing him off a bit.

"I doubt that'll happen twice," I replied thoughtfully, but catching his disappointed face, I decided to throw the guy a bone. "But on the off-chance it does, I'll let you know."

Smirking, his freckled face burned bright red as I flashed the fakest of smiles.

Quickly turning back around, I hissed at the hysterical Danny as I took the seat next to him: "I don't see what's so funny…"

"Just was wondering when you two decided to go steady," he grinned. "You gonna make him carry your books from now on?"

Shooting him a pointed look, I punched the lacrosse goalie's shoulder, making him yelp out in pain as I smiled to myself.

"That's what you get," I chortled, my eyes catching Stiles watching me closely from his seat on the other side of Mahealani.

Immediately looking away, I felt an odd feeling in my stomach.

God, what was going on with me today?

First, I helped Lydia, then offered to cover for Allison and Scott, I was even nice to Greenberg, and now this?

Trying to shake it off, I chalked it up to my being high on the Vicodins.

"Just a friendly reminder: parent-teacher conferences are tonight.

Students below a 'C' average are required to attend, but I won't name you cause the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment," Coach Finstock marched his way up the aisle of students once the bell rang.

Rushing into the room, mid-speech, came Jackson Whittemore, his face pale and heart rate racing.

And as the whole class turned to look at him ducking into his seat behind me and beside Greenberg, the coach leaned over and muttered as he touched his shoulder: "Hey, Jackson. If you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know."

Nodding, Jackson kept his blue eyes averted, as Danny glanced somewhat worriedly at his friend, and then to me.

Seemingly confused as to why his best friend seemed so agitated, he frowned as Bobby Finstock told us to open up to Chapter 9.

Sure Jackson was probably still freaked about last night, but the way his heart was pounding in his chest, and from his unsteady breathing, I could tell something had recently happened…

"Where's McCall?" coach suddenly spoke up, standing over Stiles as he practically highlighted the entire textbook.

Light brown eyes drifting up, he raised his brows and shrugged while gnawing on the yellow cap in his mouth.

"He… ugh, wasn't feeling well," I spoke up, making everyone's eyes shoot over to me.

Wonderful. Now everyone's staring, and you're eyes are definitely all blood-shot…

Walking over, the teacher looked down at me with a sour expression, having never quite warmed up to me after I told him off on my first day.

"Well, _Charlotte_," he gave his dig as I clenched my teeth. "Be sure to relay to him that parent-teacher conferences are tonight."

"Of course, _sir_," I shot back, tone biting as I sneered up at him.

Still eyeing me closely, he then barked: "Mr. Stilinski!"

Jumping in his seat, the startled teen with short brown hair's head snapped to face the teacher.

"Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs," his harsh eyes took in the completely yellow textbook pages. "It's Econ, not a coloring book."

Eyeing Mr. Finstock with a slightly irritated look, Stiles then threw his head back and spit the cap high into the air and caught it.

Shaking his head, the coach began to give his lecture as Stiles whispered: "Psst… hey, Danny… can I ask you a question?"

Shooting me an annoyed look, Danny responded flatly: "No."

Giggling from my seat, I saw Stiles lick his lips and continue unphased: "Well I'm going to anyway… did Lydia show up in your homeroom today?"

How typical… worried about the girl that literally doesn't even know you exist…

"No," Danny grunted back, scribbling down some notes while I folded my arms and stared out the window.

I just wanted to go home.

"Can I ask you another question?" Stilinski pressed.

Sighing in exasperation, Danny hissed: "Answer's still 'no'…"

"Does anyone know what happened to her and Jackson last night?"

Stealing a glance at Dan's somewhat upset expression I quickly looked behind me to see that Whittemore had put his head down on his desk, probably equally as tired as I was from a long night.

"He wouldn't tell me," Dan muttered whilst I turned back to the windows.

"But he's your best friend!" Stiles pointed out the obvious.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed as I heard him push the conversation forward some more.

Jesus… did he ever give up?

"O-one more question…"

At this point, both Danny and I turned and merely glared at the annoying kid now hanging out of his seat as he stretched himself closer to his teammate.

"What?" Danny growled, turning back to the front of the room, clearly out of patience.

"Do you find me attractive?" his face was sincere, but as Danny merely blinked, shaking his stunned head, Stiles clumsily fell out of his chair.

Picking himself back up as if nothing happened, he asked one more time, voice more demanding: "Danny!"

And despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but giggle.

* * *

Standing on the toilet seat, head craned up and out the cracked window, my shaking hand clutched my cigarette desperately.

Damn, these Vicodin weren't cutting it…

Eyes glancing over at the smoke detector, I heard the sound of someone approaching, so taking one deep, final drag, I flicked the cig out the window and hopped down.

Spraying a bit of perfume around the stall, I then passed two girls as I left the bathroom, eager to head home and smoke the rest of my much-needed pack.

Rounding the bend to pack my things and ditch this prison of youthful insecurities, I spotted the heavenly sight of my locker, but just as I pushed through a crowd of girls from the math club, someone pulled my arm back.

Yanked into the corner of the still packed corridor, I angrily looked up at Jackson Whittemore, however, the moment I saw how fretful and frantic he appeared, I knew this private conversation was not going to go like the last one we had.

"What do you want, Jackson?" I tried to steady my startled heart, remembering to keep my cool unlike the last time we spoke.

"Y-your cousin… he cornered me in the locker room," his blue eyes had bags under them.

God, he was a wreck.

Furrowing my brows with confusion, I responded in an equally low voice: "Derek? He was here?"

Nodding, he folded his arms, heart racing: "Yeah."

"Did he threaten you again?" I asked, feeling anger bubbling up inside me.

If my damned cousin forced me to attend this shitty high school, then why couldn't he leave watching after it and its students to me?

He was only making things worse…

"N-not really," he swallowed hard, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, only to wince in pain.

Feeling guilty that my volatile older cousin lost control and harmed him, even if he was a self-centered jerk, I immediately told him to turn around.

"What?"

"Turn around," I repeated myself impatiently, ignoring Danny and Kyle watching us as they walked by.

Making a face, he slowly obeyed my command.

Going up on my tiptoes, I pulled back his collar and saw that the deep claw marks were still swollen and irritated.

"Are you cleaning it?" I asked, gently putting the shirt back to its original place.

Turning back around, he looked at me with a nervous expression: "C-Charlie… why were you there last night?"

"I told you, I wanted to get a movie," I shrugged, crossing my arms.

"Don't lie to me!" he cried, though it wasn't one of anger or aggression, rather it was one of desperation.

Looking down, I felt that familiar pang of guilt.

Sure he and Lydia were massive pains in the ass, and they seriously needed to get off their high horses, but neither of them deserved to get caught in the crossfire of this whole Alpha ordeal.

"I… I saw it," he mumbled, voice shaking.

"What?" I looked up at his anxious eyes darting around.

"Well… I think I did… I… I don't know what I saw," he started to ramble, sweat forming on his brow.

Why was he coming to me about this?

"I mean, the cops said it was a mountain lion," I tried to sweep it all under the rug and sell that I had no clue as to what was going on.

"No!" he snapped, eyes wide. "What you're cousin did to me… it's not…it's not normal, and what I saw last night…"

"What you _thought_ you saw," I corrected him.

"It wasn't possible," he looked purely terrified. "And then Derek Hale comes out of nowhere in the locker room, asking me what I saw…"

"Derek's a weird guy," I tried to sound more amused by the conversation, but Jackson was not willing to let it go.

"Charlie, I know you know something. You _and_ your cousin," Whittemore pressed, backing me against the wall.

This time, as the boy approached me, I didn't feel necessarily threatened, though I still felt uncomfortable.

"Listen, I know you're looking for answers, and I get it… I would too if I walked in on what you did," I spoke sincerely as I gazed up at his tired blue eyed. "But I think you should let the cops figure this out."

Trying to push past him, Jackson stepped in my way one more time, expression distressed: "I know you know what's going on!"

Turning back around, I placed a hand on his broad shoulder and looked back up at him with an overly sympathetic look: "Jackson, you're in shock… just take it easy, okay?"

Then, turning on my heel without another look back, I felt his eyes boring holes in the back of my head.

I felt bad. He definitely thought he was going crazy, and honestly, I couldn't blame him.

Everything was getting out of hand, and as I felt a small wave of panic flooding over me, I only knew it was a matter of time before Whittemore figured out my family's secret.

I just hoped we killed the Alpha and were halfway across the country by the time that happened.

"Oh, wow, only took 9 calls!" I heard Stiles by his own locker. "Do you have any idea what's going on? Lydia was MIA and Jackson looks like he has a time-bomb inserted in his fricken face!"

And catching me walking by him, he did a double take from where I left the still gawking Jackson and barked into his phone: "Well… just… just do something about it, okay?"

Hanging up, he slammed his locker closed, threw his backpack on, and sprinted after me.

"Charlie," he breathlessly greeted me, stumbling over his feet as we walked down the front steps of the school.

"Stiles," I continued to look straight ahead, mind torn between telling Derek that Jackson might be a problem or just keeping an eye on the situation myself.

"So, ugh, I saw you talking to Jackson," he watched me pull a bogie from my bag.

Sticking it in my mouth, I lit it up with a slightly shaking hand and muttered: "So you can see across the hallway. Congratulations, you got 20-20 vision."

Ignoring my foul-mood and sarcastic retort, he asked with a disgusted face: "You smoke?"

Glancing at him, I felt a twinge of anger.

Why does when someone smoke, they automatically get judged?

"Only when I'm pissed… or stressed," I growled.

Making a thoughtful face, he jumped in front of me, walking backwards as I continued to head around to the back road to go home.

"Bet I know what you're stressed about," he tugged on the straps of his backpack.

I didn't have patience for this game.

Looking at him sourly, I spoke flatly: "Possibly killing you in front of a parking lot full of people?"

Puffing out his cheeks, his light brown eyes looked around before a weak chuckle escaped his throat: "No, I meant about last night."

Looking at his raised brows, I didn't respond and merely continued to make my way through the parking lot.

"He saw something, didn't he?" Stiles pressed, unphased by his bumping into a car. "That's why he was acting so weird today… and why he wanted to talk to you…"

"And here I thought it was cause I had a very approachable and welcoming personality," I inhaled the smoke, nerves a bit more at ease.

Chortling at my deadpan joke, Stiles then noticed that I, myself, wasn't laughing, so his dopey grin immediately faded.

"What is it you really wanna know, Stiles?" I sighed, stopping in front of his Jeep.

Rocking on the balls of his feet, he ran a hand over his short black hair: "W-what do you mean? I just wanna know if he saw something…"

"You sure?" I cocked a brow knowingly.

"Well… and if Lydia did too," he tried to add casually, but I saw right through it.

"She's fine," I took another pull, staring at his now relieved face.

"Are you sure? How do you know? I mean she wasn't even in school, and I thought that something had to have happened to her last night… I mean you saw her…"

Covering his mouth, silencing his mile a minute rant, I looked up at his animated face and stated simply: "I gave her something to calm down, so she took the day off to rest. She'll be back in tomorrow…"

"Oh," he furrowed his brows, watching me leave to continue my walk home. "What did you give her?"

"If you're so worried about it, why don't you just go see her?" I suggested, turning to face him, arms outstretched.

Mouth slightly open, Stilinski stared back at me dumbly, the thought clearly never having crossed his cluttered mind.

"W-well… I mean I would," he rushed over to where I was standing impatiently and looked down at me with a dorky smirk: "But, ugh, I don't know if she'd you know…"

"Know who you are?" I guessed, brows raised in slight amusement.

Huffing, he crossed his arms and stammered defensively: "N-no… I was gonna say… I don't know if she'd ugh, want visitors…"

Pretending to think real hard, I answered: "Well seems like quite the predicament… wish I could help."

Turning to leave again, Stiles called after me: "Just come with me, all right?"

Stopping, I faced the beseeching kid once again, his light brown eyes staring down at me like some little, lost puppy dog.

"Please," he clasped his hands together.

Dammit, Charlie… you're such a sucker today!

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and muttered: "Can't believe I'm agreeing to help enable your sick obsession with her…"

Grinning broadly, he obviously did not care about my basically calling him a stalker, but rather, he yanked the cigarette from my mouth and tossed it onto the ground.

"No smoking in the Jeep," he said, merrily bouncing over to the car and hopping in.

Staring at the wasted and smoldering cig on the concrete, I then looked back up at his flushed, beaming face and muttered bitterly as I slid into the seat next to him: "I need to start threatening you more…"

* * *

"Honey, there's a Stiles here to see you," the stunning Mrs. Martin greeted her doped up daughter, who was currently lying on her bed in a very revealing navy blue lace nightgown.

"What the Hell is a 'Stiles'?" Lydia asked, trying her hardest to prop her head up on her hand to look at her unknown visitor.

Unable to contain myself, I immediately broke out into quiet sniggers, while Stiles made a face of both disappointment and frustration.

I knew I should have felt bad for him, but how could he like someone so shallow? He barely even knew her, for Christ's sakes! And clearly she had no idea who he was… even after stalking her since grade school…

"You can… you can just go in," she smiled awkwardly before turning her attention onto me. "You, ugh, must be Charlie."

Watching the middle-aged woman scan me, clearly assessing whether or not I was a proper girl to be associating with her precious Lydia, it took everything I had not to roll my eyes and storm out.

The mother of the year didn't even come home to see if her daughter was okay, but sure… go and judge me…

"Yup, nice to meet you," I extended my hand with a wide, bright smile plastered on my face.

Still uncertain of whether or not she approved of me, I must have seemed at least convincing in my falsely pleasant greeting, for she gently shook my hand and smiled back.

"Lydia told me that your cousin's a doctor," she seemed skeptical of her own words.

Eyes glancing over at Stiles merely standing there and staring at Lydia sprawled on the bed chewing on her hair, I knew what the strawberry blonde's train of thought must have been.

Biting my cheek so as not to grin and blow Lydia's cover, I nodded and responded: "I hope it's okay he gave her something to calm her nerves… he just felt awful about what happened…"

"Oh, no," she waved me off, now officially buying that I was just the concerned new friend that Lydia mentioned. "I just wanted to say thanks."

"It's no problem," I grinned, the thought of Derek being some sort of hotshot doctor cracking me up.

"Okay, well I'll leave you guys alone. Thank your cousin for me," she shut the door.

"So Derek's a doctor now?" Stiles muttered, eyeing the drugged up Lydia Martin now rubbing her no doubt tingling arms.

Oh, how nice it was when one pill a day did the trick…

"Apparently," I watched her with an amused grin.

"What did you give her?" Stilinski's eyes were wide.

"What are you doing here?" the strawberry blonde's hazel eyes suddenly recognized that two people were standing at the foot of her bed, staring.

"I… um, we… we were just making sure you were okay," Stiles stammered, scanning her revealing attire and averting his eyes sheepishly.

It was adorable how conflicted he seemed. Being a boy he had the urge to ogle at her half-naked body, but being the kind, innocent soul that he was, he most definitely felt like he was violating her.

It was kind of refreshing…

"Why?" she crawled over to the foot of her bed, kneeling up and looking straight into his flushed face.

"Well… because I was worried about you today," he looked down nervously. "H-how are you feeling?"

"I feel _fantastic_!" she gestured grandly before falling back into the massive pile of pillows and blankets. "Thanks to _you_, Charlie…"

And whilst the queen bee giggled, Stiles' light brown eyes landed on the pills I gave her, sitting on her bedside table.

Glancing at one another, I knew he what he was going to do, and as a wave of embarrassment rushed over me, the both of us dove to the table.

Beating him to it, he tried to reach around me as I boxed him out.

"What… the… Hell," he grunted, struggling as I slapped away his reaching hands.

Laughing hysterically, Lydia rolled around in her bed and called out: "What are you _doing?_ I wanna play! Charlie come play with me!"

"Yeah, Charlie," Stiles panted in my ear while we continued to struggle to fight the other off. "Go play with her."

Glaring at him, I opened my mouth to give some sort of retort, but Lydia literally came out of nowhere and pulled me down into that sea of a bed of hers.

"I'm so happy we're friends," she hugged me, immediately making my body stiffen up.

Bleh. Hugs were the absolute worst…

"Whoa, Xanax… I bet you can't say 'I saw Suzy sitting in a shoeshine shop' ten times fast…" I heard Stilinski chuckle, examining the pills.

Then looking over at Lydia now kneeling before me, head smothered in my chest, his face turned bright red as his mouth dropped.

"You're my _bestest_ friend… like _ever_," she looked up at me, face unnervingly close to mine.

Playing with my long, black hair, she continued to get closer to my face, eyes never blinking, and as my eyes darted awkwardly to Stiles, I could see that this literally was turning into the beginnings of every teenage boy's fantasy.

"O-okay," I quickly got up, making Lydia break out into squealing laughs as she fell back over. "Well now I'm thoroughly uncomfortable."

"Where are you going?" Stiles' wide eyes followed me to the door, no doubt wishing some sick fantasy of his would play out.

"She's totally bombed," I put my hands on my hips.

"TOTALLY!" she cried, voice muffled from the pillows her giggling face was buried in.

"She's not gonna be any help tonight…"

And as I turned to leave, I heard the sexually frustrated Stiles sigh in heavy agreement.

"Yeah, you're right," he muttered, but as I opened the door, bidding Lydia farewell over my shoulder, the strawberry blonde spoke up.

"No, stay," her voice was oddly seductive.

Confused, I turned around and saw Lydia now gripping Stiles' arm, gazing up at him with her glassy, doe-like hazel eyes.

I could hear his heart racing, as a small whimper emitted from his quivering lips: "M-me? Stay?"

Eyes wide, the flushed kid's dreams were literally coming true as Lydia pulled him down onto the bed beside her.

"Y-you want _me_ to stay?" he dumbly asked again, making her grin seductively and nod her head.

I don't know what had happened, but the moment I saw his face staring at the beautiful girl like that, and hearing his heart flutter, I needed to get out of there.

I hated mushy stuff… so that was definitely it…

But then why didn't I simply feel nauseas like when I was stuck watching Scott and Allison get all cutesy? Or Jackson and Lydia?

Why did I feel this odd tightening in my chest as a hot flash suddenly swept over me?

It was probably Xanax withdrawal coming on…

Yeah, that was it…

And as I stepped outside after a brief good-bye to Mrs. Martin, I took off down the street, inhaling the much-needed cool, evening air.

My head throbbed.

Pulling out my compact, I popped two more Vicodins, hoping my pounding migraine would go away.

Why was I so all over the place today?

I really needed to restock… before something serious happened and I lost control…

Walking along the dimly lit sidewalk, I pulled my black blazer closer around my body, heels clacking away and crunching on some fallen leaves.

Then I smelt something…

It was familiar… a woodsy, musty scent…

Stopping, I peered into the dark yards of suburban Beacon Hills, ears and eyes peeled.

With the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly standing on end, I felt my heart rate escalating.

Something was behind me… staring… perhaps waiting to pounce…

Slowly, I turned around, and as I stared into the black trees lining some random person's massive backyard, I could have sworn I saw two, large, menacing red eyes peering back at me.

I would've have gone investigate it, but the moment I stepped off the curb and into the road, a large blue Jeep suddenly screeched to halt, just missing my toes.

"What the Hell, Stilinski?" I barked, having had to jump back to avoid getting run over.

"Oh, like my hitting you would've even left a scratch," he correctly stated, though I was still quite irritated by how unconcerned he was.

Shooting the gawky teen a vexed look, I walked around the front of the car and stared into the backyard, eyes narrowed.

Sticking his head out the window, Stiles' brown eyes followed mine to the random property, but spotting nothing, he asked: "What are you doing?"

Wind picking up, I frowned and mumbled: "I thought I saw… you know what? Nevermind…"

Eyeing me like I was crazy, Stiles suddenly remembered whatever it was he needed to share just so desperately that he almost hit me with his shitty Jeep.

"Okay, well, get in the car!" his voice was rushed and excited.

Still standing in front of the Jeep, I squinted in the headlights and folded my arms stubbornly: "Why?"

"Cause I found something, but I don't know what to do about it," Stilinski breathlessly tried to explain.

"Call Scott," I crossly responded, remaining in my spot defiantly.

His presence was bothering me to no end…

"He, ugh, he won't answer," he grumbled, clearly a bit annoyed at his best buddy.

"So then go talk it over with Lydia," I was trying to keep my voice even, though I was struggling not to just yell at the irritating teenager to leave me alone.

"L-Lydia?" he asked, brows raised. "I can't talk this over with _Lydia_," he responded incredulously.

"And why not?" I sighed, putting my hands on my hips.

"Well for starters she called me Jackson, and two… she, ugh, she probably should never see this… like ever," Stiles spoke thoughtfully, head still hanging out of the Jeep at the most awkward of angles as his hand impatiently tapped on the door.

I couldn't help but grin.

"So she thought you were Whittemore, huh?" I cocked my head to the side.

Giving me an unamused look, Stiles paused and then erratically gestured about in frustration: "Could you just get in the car?"

Still smirking, I chuckled to myself and moseyed on over to the passenger side door, my pounding headache mysteriously gone.

* * *

Watching the colossal wolf break through the video store's front window, only to have its beady red eyes stare right into the camera, I sat on Stiles Stilinski's swively desk chair with a very disturbed face, indeed.

Pausing the video, and therefore muting the frantic Lydia's shrieks, I stared back at those familiar glowing eyes as a chill ran up my spine.

This wasn't just some newbie werewolf… it was an Alpha…

This thing was smart and cunning… always aware of its surroundings and could go to and fro, unseen, with ease.

There was no way this could have been a lucky accident.

It _had_ to have wanted to get caught on camera.

But why?

Frowning, I zoomed in at its beastly, fanged teeth, foam dripping from its snarling snout as my companion paced his room at a dizzying pace.

"Hey, its me… _again_," his irritated voice was stressed. "Look, I found something, and… and I don't know what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great."

Pausing in the middle of his tenth message, the boy's light brown eyes landed on my uneasy face, and the moment he realized that I was just as troubled by what Lydia had caught on her phone's camera, Stilinski added grumpily: "Or else I'll kill you. You understand me? I'll kill you, Scott!"

Tripping over his words, Stiles furrowed his brows as he tried to make his threat more convincing, but the peculiar teen could only manage to blurt out: "A-and I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna kill you, but I'm just gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna!"

The message must have then cut out, because Stiles let out a series of loud, grunt-like syllables before throwing his phone onto his bed with a scrunched up face.

Brow raised, I couldn't help but smirk.

I found the energetic teen amusing.

"So? What do you think?" he sighed.

"Very scary… Scott's definitely gonna crap his little werewolf pants," I grinned, spinning around in the chair.

Needing a moment to realize that I was teasing him about his less than intimidating voicemail, Stiles made a face and yanked Lydia's cellphone from my hands: "Ha-ha, good one…"

"I thought so," I merrily responded.

"I _meant_ about the video," he hit the replay button, brows furrowed. "What should we do about it?"

"Delete it?" I suggested simply.

"D-delete it? Why? This could help us find the… well, whatever its called," Stiles stated excitedly, plopping down at the edge of his bed, bouncing his leg a bit as his mind obviously began thinking of ways we could use such a video to our benefit.

"Alpha," I crossed my legs, picking a piece of lint off my black leggings before lazily saying: "And no good can come from keeping that..."

"How could this be anything _but_ helpful?" he argued, hands gesturing animatedly.

"Well for starters, if this got around somehow, the Argents won't the only hunters Scott and I will have to worry about," I folded my arms, brows raised as I gave my reasoning. "And secondly… Alphas are the strongest of our kind. They're fast, and _smart_…"

Biting his nails, I could tell Stiles caught on to the darker undercurrent of my words, for the teenage boy asked a bit anxiously: "So what are you saying?"

Light brown eyes following me as I stood up and moved to sit beside him, Stiles' pulse had picked up once I took the phone from him and zoomed in on the Alpha's terrifying face.

"I'm saying," I stared into those haunting red eyes. "This thing doesn't get caught on candid camera unless it wants to…"

Looking down at the monstrous creature, Stiles swallowed hard as he watched my finger linger over the 'delete' button, and after quickly glancing at him for a word or look of opposition, I clicked it, watching the Alpha's pixilated face disappear.

"Stiles, I'm heading over to the parent-teacher conference," Sheriff Stilinski suddenly opened his son's door, causing the both of us to awkwardly hide Lydia's cellphone behind us.

What was up with parents invading their kids' privacy in this town?

"Oh," Mr. Stilinski's pale green eyes landed on my hot face, and then drifted over to his son's just as blotchily flushed cheeks. "I… I didn't know you were having company…"

"Ugh, we're just… um," Stiles tried to think of an excuse as his father continued to eye me oddly.

"We're just studying," I blurted out nervously, though the second the sheriff's gaze landed on our untouched book-bags, I realized what an absolutely horrible lie that was.

Unconvinced, he raised his brows: "Mhm."

And just as a small smirk tugged at the corner of the handsome man of the law's lips, a look of recognition flashed across his face.

"Hold on, I know you," he took a step further into the bedroom, "You're the girl that took Lydia Martin home."

"Ugh, um, yeah," I forced myself to smile, though my heart was panging against my chest erratically.

"How's she doing?" he asked, eyes narrowed a bit as he crossed his arms.

Light brown eyes darting between his father's probing stare and my clearly struggling face, Stiles blabbered: "She's good, great even! We just came back from seeing her, but she was a kinda out of it from…"

"From obviously seeing what she did last night," I cut him off with a harsh look before he could slip that I had illegally given Lydia prescription medication.

Clearing his throat, the younger Stilinski rapidly nodded his head: "Yeah… with the dead body and all… did you find out what did it, by the way?" he crossed his arms, inelegantly changing the conversation.

Looking between both of our awkwardly smiling faces, Sheriff Stilinski paused, perhaps suffering from a headache due to the amount of undecipherable word vomit that had just been thrown his way.

"Um, no, we haven't," he said slowly. "So… Miss…?"

"Charlie," I stood up abruptly, sticking my hand out and introducing myself to him rather gawkily.

Why was I so nervous?

Jesus, these withdrawal jitters sucked major ass…

Entertained by how obviously flustered I was, the Sheriff smirked and shook my hand, his light green eyes drifting back over to his beat red son: "Well, Charlie, make sure you get home before curfew, all right?"

Looking up at him, I nodded and ignored my heart beating in my ears: "Yeah, sure, of course…"

Grinning, he looked down at me for a moment or two, and for the first time in a while, I didn't feel like I was being judged.

It was oddly nice.

And as his dad stared down at me with the warmest of looks, Stiles stood up and tried to rush him out of the room with an awkward chuckle: "Well, have fun at the conference."

Son pushing him back towards the door, Sheriff Stilinski then looked down at Stiles' with a somewhat tired expression: "Yeah, please tell me I'm gonna hear good news at this thing tonight…"

Eyes narrowed, Stiles tentatively offered: "Ugh, depends on how you define 'good news'."

"I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioral issues," Mr. Stilinski's voice was filled with doubt.

"You might wanna rethink that definition," the pale boy with short brown hair honestly stated.

Pursing his lips, the sheriff sighed: "Enough said," and as he turned to leave, he quickly poked his bed back into the bedroom and added: "And nice to meet you, Charlie… always nice to see friends other than Scott…"

"Okay, bye, dad!" Stiles' strained voice drowned out my giggles as he closed the door in his father's face.

Back pressed against the door, he sighed with relief, but when his light brown eyes took in my highly amused face, he asked dryly: "What?"

"Nothing," I grinned, chuckles finally subsiding as I honestly stated: "He seems nice."

"Yeah, he's all right, I guess," he muttered, grabbing his laptop and plopping down on the bed beside me.

"Beats my dad," I muttered under my breath darkly.

"What?" he asked, absentmindedly typing away.

"Nothing," I responded quickly, causing him to look up at my frowning face.

Feeling uncomfortable under his steady gaze, I suddenly rose, pretending to be intrigued by the massive pile of video games the dorky kid had accumulated on his desk and dresser.

"So… I'm guessing you don't get many girls up here, huh?" I asked over my shoulder as I read the countless titles.

"No! Plenty of girls come over," he denied my words way too quickly.

Turning, I cocked my head to the side and grinned: "Really? Cause my being here sure seemed to surprise you dad…"

"Well… he's…" Stiles stalled, trying to think of a good counter-argument, but soon drew a blank and merely snapped: "Whatever… I've had girls over before…"

"When?" I crossed my arms.

"A few times," he seemed to be trying to think back as long as possible on the off chance that he ever did have a female over. "Like once or twice..."

Staring at his very thoughtful face, I raised my brows and laughed: "When you were what? Ten?"

"_No_," he defensively stated, before admitting, "Like twelve…_ish_…"

Taking in my laughing form, Stiles sourly grumbled: "Oh, shut up."

"Hey, their loss," I turned back to his collection of movies and games. "You got some pretty cool stuff."

"I do?" he asked in surprise, face perking up a bit.

"Yeah, I mean some of it's totally dorky," I lifted up his million copies of World of Warcraft as an example, "But you got some gems here…"

"Really? Like what?" he stood up, walking over to where I was examining his vast movie collection.

"Well… you got every horror classic under the sun, Lord of the Rings, Supernatural, Dr. Who," I rattled off some of my personal favorites, "Plus you only own the first three Indiana Jones and Star Wars movies, so major props to you."

Light brown eyes wide and mouth slightly opened, Stiles seemed a bit stunned as he stared down at my thoughtful face.

"What?" I nervously chuckled, shifting positions uncomfortably.

Again with the staring...

Breaking out into one of his wide, dopey grins, Stilinski pointed his finger teasingly: "Charlotte Hale's a secret geek…"

"Maybe I am," I crossed my arms, proudly looking up at him before adding sternly: "And call me that again, and my foot's going up your ass…"

"_And_ your back to being a scary bully," he chortled, backing away, though I could tell he didn't remotely take my threat seriously.

Trying to look intimidating, I could barely keep a straight face, but as the boy turned around and focused on his computer again, I broke into a small grin.

* * *

Phone buzzing for the umpteenth time, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to keep myself from tossing the damned thing out the window.

Derek had been calling me every fifteen minutes for the past hour, and although I desperately wanted to turn my phone off, I agreed to leave it on in case Scott decided to try to call either Stiles or myself back.

"You_ ever_ gonna answer that?" the pale boy with large brown eyes asked doubtfully.

Hitting the 'ignore' button again, I slid off my black blazer and wrapped the irritating piece of technology in it, silencing my cousin's phone calls once and for all.

"No," I grumpily stated, blowing my hair out of my vexed face.

"What if it's serious?" Stilinski pressed, examining the stack of papers in front of him.

I had asked him to look into his father's files about the fire at my old home, which he agreed to do under the condition that I sat there and didn't touch a thing.

Stupidly agreeing to comply, there I sat for sixty minutes, staring at the wall, bored out of my mind, and not even allowed to smoke a bogie on the roof.

This was torture…

"Then it'll teach him not to be a dick all the time," I resumed my activity of spinning around in dizzying circles on the desk chair. "Especially since I saved his ass once this week all ready…"

"Actually I believe _I _saved his life," Stiles reminded me of the swift punch in the face that brought my older cousin back from the dead.

Biting my lip, I knew he was right…

God, I hated 'thank you's.

Still rotating in the chair, I mumbled: "Yeah… I guess I never thanked you for that…"

"You sure you wanna thank me?" he had an amused look on his face. "Cause it seems like you'd be happier with him being dead right about now…"

Laughing, I had to admit I certainly seemed like I hated the guy… and part of me did, but he was still my cousin, and that had to count for something, right?

"Can't say I wouldn't mind being left alone for once," I mused aloud with a wry grin.

Peering over the top of stack of papers, Stiles asked: "He gets on you a lot, huh?"

"Have you met him?" I countered, brows raised.

Nodding in agreement, Stiles then looked down and began flipping through the pages of the police report some more.

Gnawing on the pencil in his mouth, he exhaled in exasperation over how fruitless this research session had been.

Then, Stilinski crossed out about three full paragraphs of notes he had scribbled down on a separate piece of paper, threw his hands up in defeat, and cried angrily: "Well I'm all out of ideas."

Standing up, I yawned and walked over to him.

Tugging the papers out of his hands, I ignored him snapping at me to put them back.

"Oh please, its not like your dad's gonna notice these are even gone," I waved him off, skimming the reports. "The case has been closed for years."

"Yeah, well, what if it opens back up again?" he countered, now reading over my shoulder as I sat beside him.

"They listed it as an electrical fire," I pointed out, feeling a twinge of anger about how the apparent justice system failed to deliver any kind of justness or compensation for my family.

Leaning literally right on top of me, the boy with no regard to personal space jabbed his finger at a section on the page and stated: "It says case is still open pending possible arson."

Snorting in disbelief, I tucked some hair behind my ear and shook my head: "Yeah, 'possible' arson… cause you know, two hunters torching the place with flame throwers leaves _so_ much room for interpretation."

Feeling that familiar sensation of his light brown eyes intently watching me, I looked up with an uncomfortable expression.

What the Hell was he staring at?

Head throbbing, and dying for another Vicodin, cigarette, or just about anything at this point, I snapped defensively: "What are you looking at?"

Eyes shooting down, he seemed to be thinking of something to say, for he merely mumbled: "I, ugh, I didn't know you were there went it, um, I just didn't know you were there…"

And as I looked at his sympathetic and apologetic face, my mind went back to that horrible night.

Shaking it off, I shrugged and tried to sound as impassive about it as possible: "It was a long time ago… let's just focus on…"

And then, something caught my eye, stopping me mid-sentence.

"What? What is it?" Stiles asked, scrutinizing over the same piece of paper he had unsuccessfully been staring at for the past hour.

Holy shit...

We always knew that some group of hunters were responsible for the death of our eleven innocent family members, but there was never a shred of evidence, let alone proof as to who actually burnt the old Hale house down.

But now, heart racing wildly, three little printed words affirmed the hunch my cousins and I had for years: _Witness: Kate Argent_.

Shaking, I shoved the papers back into Stiles' hands, ignoring his constant questioning as to what I saw.

Rushing over to my blazer, I whipped out my phone and saw the 5 voicemails blinking like a silent SOS from my cousin.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I put the phone to my ear and listened to the sounds of a female voice taunting my older cousin as he yelped out in pain.

I had literally ignored Derek's calls for help while the very person that murdered our entire family tortured him…

Blood rushing to my head, I couldn't think as rage swept over me.

"Charlie? What's going on? What did you…" he suddenly stopped talking, immediately looking at me with a nervous expression.

I knew he finally made the connection, too, but as his voice echoed in my head, telling me to calm down, I knew it was too late.

Color vision fading from my eyes, I let out a loud, beast-like roar, and leapt from Stilinski's window, with nothing but murder on my mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**AHHH! You guys! The responses for last chapter were AMAZING! Literally... speechless! This chapter is another long one, but it's got some great moments, if I do say so myself! It's awesome to hear that a lot of you are all for the cute moments between Stiles and Charlie! More will definitely happen! Let me know what y'all think about this one! Especially my new followers/favoriters... don't be shy! Tell me what you think!**

**Kayyy, only own my OC and I hope you enjoy this! Nowwww READ AWAY (and pretty please with sugar on top, comment if you got something to say/got the time)! **

**ELEVEN: IT HURTS**

Neck extremely stiff, and head literally on fire, I tried to open my woozy eyes, completely unsure of where I was or what had happened.

Last thing I remembered was a warm pair of light brown eyes staring at me, and then nothing.

Lifting my head, I groaned as my neck and jaw smarted like something awful.

Though my vision was blurry, I figured out where I was based on the familiar scent of charred wood and mothballs.

I was home, but why did I feel like I had been hit by a truck?

Eyes finally focusing, I saw my cousin staring back at me from his seat on the torn up couch.

Then I remembered.

"Oh my God! Derek!" I tried to rush over to his exhausted and battered form, but the second I lunged forward, I realized I was chained to a rickety chair.

Completely confused, my head snapped down, forgetting how stiff my neck was and immediately hissing in pain.

"What the Hell?" I mumbled, mouth filling up with the familiar irony taste of blood.

Running my tongue across my swollen bottom lip, I knew it was split…

Well that explains the pain…

"It's for your own good," he muttered, unable to look me in the eyes.

"What are you talking about? Untie me," I jerked violently, feeling like a caged animal.

"No," he folded his arms, green eyes looking at me with a somewhat saddened expression. "Not after the stunt you just pulled…"

Completely lost, I demanded: "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"You don't remember?" my older cousin seemed slightly disturbed.

"Remember _what_?" I felt my heart rate accelerating as I realized I had blacked out again…

Did I lose control and shift?

Did I hurt someone?

"Oh my God… Stiles…"

Slowly standing up, Derek winced and stopped in front of me as I slowly began to mentally lose it.

"He's fine," he muttered, eyeing me harshly.

Feeling slightly relieved that I hadn't killed him, I still wasn't sure if I was in the clear.

"Well what the Hell happened then? D-did I shift?" I asked somewhat nervously, a cold sweat forming on my brow.

"Almost," was Derek's only response.

Losing my patience at my constantly ambiguous cousin, I snapped irritably: "Are we gonna play 20 questions or can you just tell me what Hell happened?"

"You wanna know what happened?" he snarled, getting into my face. "You went to the Argents! You were gonna kill Kate!"

Anxiety melting away to anger, I glanced around and noticed a few new holes in our walls, no doubt from Derek's little run in with the psychotic hunter.

"Am I supposed to apologize for that? The bitch has it coming," I quipped snarkily. "I'm just sorry I didn't get the job done…"

"You know how stupid that was?" my older cousin scolded me, "You're lucky I got there in time to stop you before she recognized you…"

"You _what_?" I roared, heart rate skyrocketing as I immediately began thrashing in the heavy iron chains confining me. "Why would you do that?

"She could've killed you!" Derek yelled, voice echoing throughout our home.

"Not if I got to her first," my voice was dark, tone dead serious, for we both knew just how dangerous I could be when provoked.

"Charlie…"

"No Derek!" I cut him off, eyes blazing as I divulged the harsh discovery I had just made with Stiles: "She's the one that burnt down our house!"

"You don't know that," he stubbornly argued, making me shake in anger.

Why didn't he ever believe me?

Frustrated beyond belief, I cried: "But I do! Stilinski and I were looking at the police report and…"

"It said she was a witness," he cut me off with the most impassive of expressions, "I know… you told me…"

"I… I did?" I furrowed my brows, having no recollection of relaying such a message to him before.

"Yeah, right before you attacked me for getting in your way," Derek finally explained why both he and I looked like absolute Hell.

Closing my eyes, I couldn't wrap my mind around how calm he was about this entire situation.

I was literally telling him who the murderer was of our _entire_ family, and he was just standing there lecturing me!

"Would you just let me out?" I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep my rage in check.

"Why?" he idiotically asked, causing me to erupt again.

"So _I_ can go avenge our family's death since you're too big of a _pussy_ to face your psycho ex!" fuming, I could feel myself starting to give into those irate emotions again.

"We have no _actual_ proof that she did it," he continued to argue with me.

Eyes flashing, I felt like my brain was about to explode from utter disbelief: "Are you kidding me? The police report says…"

"It says she was a witness… _not_ the arson," my older cousin spoke over me crossly, his own tone of voice strained from the anger he was trying to control.

"Witness my ass!" I snarled, "She was probably toasting celebratory marshmallows over our burning house by the time the cops showed up."

Sighing, Derek inhaled deeply, trying to remain calm: "I'm not saying I don't agree with you, but we can't just go declaring war on the Argents until we're certain they're guilty."

"Oh God," I groaned, literally unable to handle this new, 'rational-thinking' Derek. "Is this some sort of Stockholm thing?"

"What?" my reference clearly went over his thick, stupid head.

"Kate breaks into our home, beats you to a pulp… _tortures_ you… and you're telling me we need _proof_ that she's guilty?" I thundered incredulously.

Staring down at my incensed form, Derek evenly responded: "Yes."

Blood literally boiling at this point, I demanded: "Why?"

"Cause she can help us find the Alpha," his face was serious, though his voice held a tone of doubt to it.

"Jesus Christ, Derek!" I seriously wanted to smack his dumb face silly. "You're an idiot! First you wanna trust Peter, and now _her_?"

"I don' trust her," my older cousin admitted, making me even more confused and aggravated.

"Then _why_ is she still breathing?" I hissed in complete exasperation as my cousin checked his phone.

"Cause... cause… cause I said so!" he snapped impatiently, mind obviously elsewhere.

"What? That makes zero sense," I scrunched up my face, watching him grab his leather jacket and keys. "Whoa, where are you going?" I demanded.

"Listen, you're gonna stay away from her… no, scratch that… you're gonna stay away from _all_ of the Argents until I say otherwise," he commanded sternly, throwing his coat on, green eyes looking down at me harshly.

"But," I tried to get out, but my older cousin cut me off.

"No, Charlie! This is how it's gonna be, and if you try screwing around with the plan, I'm gonna tie your little ass right back up and lock you down in the cellar," he threatened me, face now inches from mine.

Glaring up at his blazing eyes, I heard Derek's steady heart beat and knew he wasn't lying.

Opening my mouth to respond, I could only manage to let out a loud, frustrated growl as I frowned sourly from my seat.

"Okay, well now that we understand each other, I'm going to go train Scott," he stood upright, completely ignoring my wide eyes and opened mouth.

"What? Y-you can't just leave me here!" I called after him, voice shrill as I struggled against the thick chains.

Opening the front door, a small smirk tugged at Derek's lips as he took his revenge on me for clearly beating the shit out of him in my blackout state: "Yeah, actually, I can…"

"Derek, I swear to God," my tone was stormy as I thrashed about some more, only causing him to let out a chuckle.

"Nope, you're in time out," he was now thoroughly enjoying himself. "So just sit there like a good girl and think about what you did…"

And as he exited, I heard him laughing to himself as I proceeded to holler every unholy word I knew after him.

* * *

Officially no longer even acknowledging my older cousin's existence, I sat outside against a large tree to the side of the parking lot, smoking a cigarette while I scribbled in a notebook.

_Age: 26_

_Height: 5'7"_

_ Weight: 136 lbs_

_ Hair/Eyes: brown_

_ Car: silver Lexus_

_ Strengths: hand-to-hand combat, good marksman, knowledgeable _

_about folklore, intelligent, good with manipulation, ruthless_

_ Weaknesses: human, right wrist, ribs, right ankle, and nose weak _

_from prior fractures, prideful, her family (specifically Chris and Allison)_

_ Habits: …_

Frowning, I stared down at the page, realizing just how much energy I was going to have to put into devising the best plan to take down Kate Argent.

I was going to have to get closer to Allison, manipulate my way into her home and figure out the layout of everything… find out where every weapon was stored; then I was going to have to tail the psycho hunter without anyone noticing, especially Derek.

Good thing I was patient…

"Charlie!" I heard someone shout my name, startling me.

"I-I tried to call you, but I ugh… I forgot I don't have your number," Stiles Stilinski bounded over to me, and as his light brown eyes drifted down to my plans to literally murder someone, he asked: "What's that?"

"Nothing," I snapped the book shut quickly, heart still pounding from being startled as I gave my pathetic excuse: "It's just some notes… you know, for class…"

Tugging on his backpack strap, Stiles looked down at me with an unconvinced face: "You don't take notes…"

Getting up and shoving the book into my white leather back, I tried to sound offended, hoping to change the subject: "And how would you know?"

"You're barely passing like every class," he responded simply.

Shrugging, I answered airily, "I prefer to think of it as successfully coasting by."

Smirking at my witty response, Stiles' grin soon faded once he noticed me taking another drag from the cigarette.

Yanking the bogie out of my mouth and stepping on it as I threw my back over my shoulder, Stilinski energetically waved me off: "Yeah, sure, whatever. But what happened last night? Did you go after Kate? What happened to Derek? Did you… you know… wolf up?"

Shooting him a highly irritated look for interrupting my morning bogie session, I stated flatly: "Don't call it that," and as I turned to head up to the school building, I left Stiles to clumsily scramble after me.

"Noted," he muttered before continuing to ramble at a mile a minute: "But something must have happened… I mean you totally freaked."

"I didn't 'freak'," I muttered as we walked up the steps towards the most horrible place in the world.

"You jumped out my window," he said, staring down at my still sour face.

All I was looking forward to was smoking in peace before having to start my day, but _no_, Stiles Stilinski just had to ruin that one moment of bliss for me…

"I'm a werewolf… we do that sometimes," I stared ahead as we walked through the lobby, completely unphased by his words.

Heading up the stairwell, Stiles added: "You landed on my neighbor's roof… two houses over…"

Now _that_ caught my attention.

Boy, I must have _really_ been close to shifting.

Glancing up at him with raised brows, even I had to admit: "Okay, yeah, fine… I freaked…"

Smiling smugly that I had actually conceded that he was right and I was wrong, Stilinski then pressed: "Well… then what happened after you left?"

"You know… the usual," I decided to toy with the overly eager teen bumping into people as he anxiously awaited for me to elaborate. "Huffed and puffed and blew a couple houses down… couldn't make a dent in the brick one though…"

Unamused by my deadpan, sarcastic response, Stiles pretended to laugh before becoming straight-faced: "You're hilarious."

"I like to think so," I smirked, unlocking my locker.

"Yeah, well you're the only one," he mumbled, leaning against the locker next to mine, light brown eyes boring holes into my face.

Jiggling the padlock, I finally opened my locker and sighed in exasperation: "Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me?"

"Until you tell me, yeah," he tried to be stern, but as he folded his arms, he slammed his elbow rather hard against the metal lockers. "Ow…"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head as I packed up for the day and stated honestly: "Well… I don't remember so…"

"W-what? What do you mean you don't remember?" he raised his brows, no longer concentrated on his most likely tingling funny bone.

"I don't know, okay?" I hissed, still uneasy about it myself, but as I saw his concerned face staring down at me, I eased my tone a bit. "I just kinda… blacked out…"

"Like Scott when he was in the locker room," the boy mused thoughtfully.

Nodding, I gnawed on my lip, staring at the almost empty bottle of pills in the back of my locker.

"I thought you said only newbies black out," Stiles continued.

"They do," I mumbled, really wishing he'd go away so I could pop a Vicodin or two.

"But you're not new to this," he stated the obvious.

"I know," I grumbled in vexation, mind trying to figure out how I could get a fresh stash.

"So then why do you, you know, not remember?" he struggled to figure out why I had blacked out, completely unaware that I, like Scott, was just as inexperienced about keeping my emotions in check.

"I don't know, Stiles," I snapped, slamming my locker shut, running a hand through my hair and closing my eyes as I inhaled deeply.

Calm down, Charlie.

You'll get more somehow.

You'll figure this out and get through it.

You always do.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Heart still racing, I felt a warm hand gently touch my shoulder.

"Don't worry. I'm sure it's just stress or something…"

Opening my eyes, I looked up at the boy sincerely trying to comfort me, though I could tell he was just as doubtful about his words as I was.

"Yeah," I exhaled, pulse slowing down substantially as I nodded my head. "Its just stress. And speaking of stress… I heard what happened…"

Looking down, Stiles' jaw clenched a bit.

"You're dad's okay, right?" I asked, for once genuinely wanting to know about some silly human's wellbeing.

"Yeah, he's fine," he tried to act like his only parent getting hurt hadn't shaken him up quite a bit. "Thanks for asking… unlike _some _people."

Watching the usually jovial kid's face stormily frowning, I knew that he was definitely referring to Scott.

Obviously still pissed that his best friend blew him off, only to have his dad get hurt when the young wolf could have stepped in, Stilinski was definitely feeling a bit betrayed.

I knew the feeling…

Then, visibly becoming distracted by something else, Stiles' light brown eyes shot away from mine, his face suddenly becoming stiff.

Furrowing my brows, I turned and looked behind me, only to spot Scott McCall heading right towards us.

Speak of the devil…

Turning to face Stilinski again and tell him to just talk it out with his clearly remorseful buddy, I realized he was gone, only to spot the back of his head disappearing in the sea of people packing the corridor.

"Hey," Scott tentatively approached, chocolate brown eyes also staring after his friend.

"Hey, yourself," I responded, zipping my bag up.

"Listen, I know I should've answered you guys, but Charlie… I'm really…"

Cutting off his rushed apology, I looked up at Scott's guilt-ridden face: "It's fine."

Blinking, I could tell the boy didn't know if I meant 'it's fine' in the backwards way every teenage girl did, or if I was actually totally okay with him.

"B-but," he muttered.

"Scott," I looked him directly in the face, raising my brows with a reassuring expression and tone of voice: "I mean it… It's really okay. Nothing's your fault."

Nodding, he seemed a bit relieved, only to then mutter glumly: "Yeah, well I wish Stiles saw it that way."

"Kid's got the attention span of a two year old," I stated, crossing my arms as I grinned wickedly: "He'll get over it."

Chuckling a bit, Scott gave me a somewhat appreciative smirk.

Chocolate brown eyes then widening, Scott ducked behind me.

Completely confused I looked around while the young werewolf whispered scoldingly: "Don't look! She'll see me!"

Ignoring his frantic command I peered down the hall and saw Allison enter the building.

Clenching my own jaw, I tried to stifle my own emotional upheaval in regards to the girl and asked: "What? Did you piss her off, too?"

"No," his voice was rushed, and I could hear his heart racing. "I'm… ugh, I'm supposed to be avoiding her… and pretty much everyone else…"

Realizing what was going on, I stated matter-of-factly: "And this is based on something Derek told you…"

Nodding, Scott continued to crane his neck, staring after the lovely brunette now talking to Lydia by the water fountain.

"Let me guess… she's a 'distraction'?" I lazily offered, my irritation with my older cousin becoming even worse… as if that were even possible…

"Yeah, pretty much," McCall pouted, longingly staring after her.

Glancing between him, and then the now approaching Allison Argent and Lydia Martin, I clapped his shoulder with a wry smile: "Yeah… good luck with that…"

And leaving the pouting young wolf hiding in the corner, I headed off to go about my day, mind still focused on operation 'Kill Kate Argent'.

* * *

"Oh, come on! You're still not talking to me?" Scott whispered beseechingly from his seat behind his best friend.

Realizing Stiles was just going to continue ignoring him, McCall sighed and asked weakly: "Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay? I mean, it's just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage?"

Watching the boy with light brown eye shifting positions and continue to tap his pencil on the desk in irritation, Scott glanced over at me.

Merely shrugging, I turned back to my own notes.

_Likes: Scott. Going out. Her family. Her friends. _

_Dislikes: Jackson. Her dad (sometimes)._

Sighing, I continued to steal glances at Allison.

How could I expect myself to be dedicated to manipulating her to get to her aunt? Sure, Kate was a crazy bitch that I had no problem putting down, but Allison was sweet… she was innocent… she had no clue about her family…

I was sure of it.

"You know I feel really bad about it, right?" I heard Scott continue to try to make amends with Stilinski, who was currently clenching his jaw and trying to keep up the appearance that he wasn't listening to a word the young wolf was saying. "Okay… what if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out? And that I went to Derek for help?"

Glancing over, I knew that _had_ to get a rise out of Stiles, and, just as expected, he shifted in his seat and rolled his eyes in exasperation before muttering harshly: "If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting him…"

Grinning a bit that he successfully got Stilinski to at least respond to him, Scott opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by his still furious best friend: "But obviously I'm not talking to you…"

Frowning again, Scott leaned back, his eyes finally noticing Allison staring at him.

Forcing a friendly grin, he quickly looked back down, as the brunette with curled dark brown hair appeared completely confused and even a bit wounded.

I felt bad.

Allison was completely unaware of what was going on with her boyfriend… and her family… and the whole town for that matter…

It must suck to be in the dark like that… thinking that you did something…

Tapping his pencil, whilst jiggling his leg, Stiles couldn't take it anymore and turned fully around, not giving a crap whether or not the teacher noticed: "What did he say? That he wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry or something?"

"Yeah," Scott whispered back.

Licking his lips, Stiles sourly murmured: "All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone… and that someone's usually me…"

"I know," Scott admitted, still sulking a bit. "That's what he means when he doesn't know if he can teach me… I need to be able to control it first."

"And how does he plan to help you with that?" Stilinski scoffed, as our teacher cleared his throat impatiently.

Slowly turning around, Stiles flashed the instructor a weak smile before pretending to take notes again.

"I don't know," his best friend confessed.

"I don't think he does either," Stiles muttered cynically, before inquiring, "When are you seeing him again?"

"He, ugh, told me not to talk about it," Scott apologetically stated. "You know, just act normal and get through the day."

Giving his friend a peeved look, Stilinski demanded: "When?"

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work," Scott folded easily.

"All right," Stiles sighed unhappily. "Well that give me to the end of the school day then…"

"To do what?" Scott furrowed his brows.

"To teach you myself," Stiles leaned back in his seat.

"You? Teach me?" Scott asked doubtfully.

But before I could hear the rest of their conversation, the vice principal's voice came on the loud speaker, interrupting the teacher's lecture.

"Would Charlotte Hale immediately come down to the student conduct office. I repeat, would Charlotte Hale come down to the student conduct office," the voice echoed throughout the quiet classroom.

Cringing, I felt my skin burning as everyone began to snigger.

Feeling all of my peers staring, including my teacher, I scrambled to grab my things as a hot flash swept over me.

Tripping a bit over my own two feet, I heard everyone chortle as I rushed out of the room.

Seriously… like my luck couldn't get any worse…

* * *

Really? _Detention_?

Sitting on the cold bleachers of the practice field, I stared down at the pink slip sentencing me to an extra hour of being stuck in this Hellhole.

Just fricken perfect…

"You sure you know what you're doing?" I heard Scott McCall approaching from behind.

"Ugh, yeah…" Stiles Stilinski didn't sound so sure as he and his friend walked over to my secluded spot on campus.

How the Hell did they find me?

Glancing over my shoulder, I found the boys trudging over, a stuffed gym bag and two lacrosse sticks in hand.

What were they up to?

"You have no clue, do you?" Scott asked flatly.

"You think Derek does?" Stiles shot back, as he and his best friend plopped their belongings by my feet, clearly unaware that I was staring up at them with the most unwelcoming of expressions.

"Maybe, yeah," Scott offered weakly.

"Sure he does," Stiles scoffed, light brown eyes suddenly drifting over towards my irritated face and then the light pink demerit.

"Oh, detention, huh?" he twiddled his thumbs while his friend also stared at me. "What did they get you for?"

"No one showed up for my parent-teacher conference," I mumbled, eyeing them both closely.

"Ugh, that sucks," a distracted Stilinski didn't seem that overly upset for me.

Glancing between the pale boy trying to make awkward small talk and the highly impatient Scott adjusting the net on his stick impatiently, I inquired: "What do you guys want now?"

"W-what?" Stiles asked, feigning offense, but Scott merely spoke over his best friend pretending to be confused.

"Stiles wants to be my Yoda."

Not expecting that response, I furrowed my brows: "You're what?"

"His Yoda… you know, to use the werewolf force, teach him I will," Stiles grinned merrily, trying to mimic the creepy green character's voice as he unzipped the red duffel bag.

Rubbing my throbbing temples, I just stared at the equally straight-faced Scott.

"As much as I love seeing that you two are a couple again," I sarcastically quipped, causing both boys to make a face, I then asked with a tired expression "What are you talking about?"

Grinning with excitement, Stiles pulled out a belt and cellphone.

"Isn't that one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" Scott asked as Stiles turned it on.

"Yeah, I borrowed it," he lied.

"More like stole it," Scott corrected him.

Glancing at his best friend, Stiles thrust the object into his hand: "Temporarily misappropriated it," but as Scott merely shook his head, the boy with light brown eyes ordered: "Just put it on."

"Don't you need Finstock's phone to read his heart rate, though?" I inquired, pointing out in the obvious flaw in this plan.

Pulling out the familiar black Galaxy with a mischievous smirk, Stiles wiggled it a bit: "This I stole."

Shaking my head, I chuckled as Scott strapped on the monitor.

"How long do I have to wear this?" he whined a bit.

"All day," Stiles responded.

"I don't know how I feel about this," Scott's chocolate brown eyes watched Stiles start counting the three-dozen lacrosse balls he packed.

Finally realizing that the pale boy with short brown hair was planning to launch objects at Scott as an exercise to teach him control, I had to admit that it was pretty smart…

Except if Scott shifted, of course…

"Wanna join?" Stilinski ignored his friend, who now looked at me with wide, anxious eyes.

"Eh, I don't know," I shoved the pink slip into my pocket, still feeling quite grumpy.

Watching Scott sigh in obvious relief that I wouldn't be partaking in this crazy idea, Stiles prodded some more: "Oh, come on! This would _definitely_ being going against Derek's orders…"

Interest peaked, I looked into his eyes, knowing very well that he was manipulating the situation a bit.

Loving any opportunity to dick my older cousin over, I was extremely tempted, but I also understood that Stiles was probably hoping for me to join in and cause Scott more physical pain as pay back for last night.

"Besides," he added, watching me contemplating whether or not to partake in this idiotic activity: "You look like you could use a little fun."

Remembering being chained up until sunrise and then receiving detention today, as well as how irritable I had been, I then glanced at Scott as a wicked, crooked grin spread across my face: "I mean, watching Scott take a few balls to the face _does_ sound fun."

Jumping a bit with excitement, Stiles smiled broadly whilst Scott's face went a little pale, his heart rate increasing with dread.

This would definitely help me de-stress…

"So your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?" Stiles yanked Scott's lacrosse stick away from him, handing it over to me. "When you're at lacrosse, or with Allison…"

"Or when he's angry," I added, pondering how to use the contraption in my hand.

It seemed easy enough… I mean if Greenberg could use it, I could too, right?

"Yeah, so I think the key to learning to control is tied to your heart rate," Stiles offered his theory while we headed off to the middle of the field.

"Like the Incredible Hulk," Scott thoughtfully observed.

"Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah," Stilinski agreed with a small nod.

God, they were such dorks…

"No… I mean, I'm like the Incredible Hulk," McCall grinned boastfully, making his best friend stare back at him in vexation.

"Would you just shut up and go over there," he wildly gestured to the center of the pitch.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period," Scott muttered sourly as he dragged his feet to where Stiles was pointing.

"Here," Stiles dumped the balls. "You know how to use this?"

"I'm sure I'll figure it out," I wasn't quite as confident as I sounded.

I hated making an ass out of myself in front of people, even if it was just Stiles and Scott.

"You ready?" Stiles called, excitement quite apparent in his voice.

Heart beat uneven, Scott flatly responded: "No."

"Remember," Stilinski ignored his anxious best friend awkwardly jumping around, trying to amp himself up, "Don't get angry."

Then, launching the first ball as hard as he could, Stiles just barely missed Scott's scrunched up face.

"I-I'm starting to think this was a bad idea," Scott mumbled, as I heard his heart now pounding erratically, but before he could say anything else, a determined Stiles Stilinski fired another one, this time smacking his best friend in the chest.

"Ow! Okay, that one hurt!" McCall groaned.

"Quiet," Stiles called over before turning to me. "Now you try."

"I still don't see why I need to be here for this," I stalled, feeling nervous with his light brown eyes intently watching me pick up the lacrosse ball.

"Yeah," Scott piped up, no doubt terrified of a werewolf partaking in this.

"Because you're always stay in control… I mean last night you were really pissed and you didn't even shift then," Stiles mused out loud.

"W-what happened last night?" an oblivious Scott asked, but we both simply ignored his words.

"Cause I don't like to," I muttered, cradling the ball a bit, trying to get a feel for the lacrosse stick.

"Why?" Stilinski and Scott both asked in unison.

"I just don't," I stated a bit defensively, mind going back to the incident.

"Then that's exactly why you should be helping us," Stilinski thankfully didn't push the matter any further. "How do you control it?"

Easy. Become a junkie and avoid all possible human contact.

"Ugh, I don't know… find something to anchor you," I gave a more socially acceptable answer.

"Anchor you?" Stiles repeated.

"Yeah, to your humanity," I prepared myself to try my hand at this entertaining exercise.

"Okay, well what can be an anchor?" Stilinski leaned on his stick, watching attentively as I fired a shot, hitting Scott in the shin.

Grinning in pride, I watched the young wolf hop about, clutching his leg in pain whilst Stiles laughed in amusement.

"Depends on the person," I responded between giggles. "Sometimes it's a memory, or another person. Other wolves meditate," picking up another ball I wound up as I continued to explain: "Anything that makes you feel at ease… makes you feel like… well you…"

And as my shot hit the smarting Scott in the stomach, making him double over, Stilinski asked somewhat seriously: "Instead of some wild animal?"

Still watching Scott trying to catch his breath, we both looked at the slowly rising monitor as I mumbled: "Yeah, basically."

"Remember, you're supposed to be thinking of your heart rate, all right?" Stiles scolded his best friend who looked like he was still about to throw up. "Just stay calm."

Glowering at the both of us, I heard McCall grimly mutter under his breath somewhat snarkily: "Yeah… stay calm…"

"You're doing this to get back at him, aren't you?" I whispered after Stiles hit Scott in the same spot on his shoulder twice in a row.

Grinning, he just looked at me before calling over merrily: "You know, I think my aim's actually improving!"

"Stay calm," Scott hissed through clenched teeth while his best friend and I fired two extra shots each. "There are no balls flying at my head…"

And as one of my tosses smacked him square in the diaphragm and Stiles' in the face, Scott yelped out: "Son of a bitch!"

Chuckling, I then noticed Jackson Whittemore was watching us from behind the bleachers.

His face had a sickly gray tint to it, and his usually bright blue eyes were dulled and had red, puffy bags underneath them.

He looked like utter crap…

"Shit," I heard Stiles mutter under his breath, making me tear my eyes away from the eerily still lacrosse captain watching us intently.

With a heart rate in the red, Stiles and I rushed over to Scott, who was lying on the grass, clawed hand digging into the earth as he tried to regain control.

"Scott!" Stiles dove down, "You're starting to change."

Quickly looking back up, I noticed Jackson had disappeared whilst I had been distracted.

Shaking it off, I squatted beside the two boys, listening to Scott trying to even his breathing, his pulse slowing down.

"It's the anger, man," Stilinski said, watching the young wolf's eyes go back to normal.

Still panting a bit, Scott sat upright and shook his head: "It was more than that… it was like, the angrier I got…"

"The stronger you felt," I stated, knowing the feeling.

Nodding slowly, Scott's chocolate brown eyes seemed unsettled by this realization.

"So it's anger, then. Derek was right," a sort of downtrodden Stilinski sighed.

"Derek oversimplifies things," I stated bitterly, helping Scott up.

My cousin always thought he was right, and although anger was definitely an important emotion for werewolves, it wasn't the key to everything.

"I… I can't be around Allison," Scott spoke up sadly, rubbing his sore ribs.

"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles asked, raising his brows as we headed back towards the school building.

"No, because she makes me weak," he said simply.

"But is it for a few days, or is it forever? You know, this whole 'women make you weak' thing is a little too Spartan warrior for me," Stiles tried to make light of the situation. "It's probably just part of the learning process," he attempted to sound optimistic.

Glancing at Scott's depressive face, I knew he was seriously upset about it.

Allison, a hunter's daughter, and Scott, a werewolf… life only destined to tear them apart… you couldn't write this stuff…

Well, I guess Shakespeare could…

"Yeah, but you've seen Derek… I mean, the guy's totally alone," Scott glumly stated, but immediately added with an apologetic look: "No offense."

"None taken," I replied dryly.

Rounding the corner, we headed back towards the gym and locker rooms as McCall continued: "What if I can't like ever be around her again?"

"Better than being dead," I muttered, for although I did feel bad for him, in the scheme of things, some high school romance was definitely not worth dying over.

"I'd rather be dead," he replied dramatically as we reached the door to the boys' locker room.

"You're not gonna end up like Derek, okay?" Stiles spoke up in determination. "We'll figure it out," his eyes then looked at me to agree. "We'll _all_ figure it out."

"Okay," Scott muttered, nodding slowly though his mind was clearly not at ease.

"Right, well I'm gonna get going," I returned McCall his lacrosse stick. "Something stinks over here…"

Glancing at the sign reading 'Boys', Stiles raised his brows and gave his sarcastic retort: "Really? By the boys' locker room? That doesn't make sense at all…"

"No, she's right," Scott scrunched up his face in disgust. "It smells like something's rotting… or dying…"

Gagging a bit as the breeze picked up, making the stench even more pungent, I grimaced and stated: "Well have fun walking through _that_."

And as the two boys disappeared into the stinking room, I turned to head back towards the main entrance.

Jesus, that stench was God-awful.

Coughing a bit, I rummaged through my bag, hoping to fit a quick smoking session in before I was forced back into classes.

I had two Vicodins left and needed to hold off on using them for as long as possible.

Head pounding, feeling nauseous, going through hot and cold flashes, and on edge, the withdrawal was slowly driving me nuts.

Feeling around my bag, I yanked out a bogie and put it in my mouth, flicking the lighter as I continued to walk.

The cigarette wouldn't light however, for on top of the refreshing cool breeze, my movements kept blowing the flame out.

So I stopped, cupping my hand and flicked the lighter, but the second I held the small, flickering flame to the trembling cig between my lips, someone spoke up, startling me.

"Hey there," Jackson Whittemore came out of nowhere.

Cigarette falling to the ground, I jumped back a bit and was about to snap at the irritating teenager, but the second my furious eyes looked back up at his pallid, clammy face, something felt off.

"Y-you really need to stop doing that," I stammered despite myself.

The look he was giving me, the way his blue eyes seemed a bit vacant, it was unnerving.

"Sorry," he laughed, stepping closer to my frozen body.

He felt different. The impression he was giving me was not the same arrogant but harmless one; rather it was threatening and more predatory.

He even smelt different… rancid, even…

Bending down, he retrieved my cigarette and offered it to me, his muscular frame mere inches from my own.

Taking it, a small, uncomfortable smile flashed across my face as I backed up a step or two.

"Thanks," I muttered, back hitting the brick wall, unable to go any further.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot lately," he began.

"That's nice to hear," my eyes were darting around, oddly wishing for Stiles to come over with the fire extinguisher.

"About you," he ignored my words, eyes carefully examining my face, his heart beat disconcertingly steady.

"O-oh," I mumbled, my own pulse rising.

Jackson was definitely different, and although I knew I could take him if need be, something about the way he was looking at me put me more on edge than I had been in a long time.

Maybe it was testosterone and other teenage hormones, but I had the sinking feeling it had something to do with the scratch on the back of the blonde boy's neck.

"We got off on the wrong foot," he smiled down at me pleasantly enough.

Blinking a bit, I wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"W-what do you mean?" I shook my head, feigning ignorance.

"I shouldn't have pressured you about your cousin. I was just in a bad place… I mean I went from being the school's hero to having to compete with McCall," his voice was a bit strained, though his face was impassive.

"It's fine. Forget about it," I tried to smile reassuringly, but my grin immediately dropped once he stepped even closer, toes literally touching my own.

"I mean it, Charlie," I felt his hot breath on my face, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "I want start fresh."

"Sounds good to me," I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could feel my instincts slowly taking over.

He was staring down at me with such a predatory gaze, like an animal toying with its prey.

I knew that look.

Hell, I mastered it, but to have someone else, someone seemingly harmless now suddenly being this bold… it wasn't right…

"I find you interesting, and I want to be friends," he continued, voice oddly quiet, his cold, calculating blue eyes locked onto mine.

My heart was pounding in my ears as I struggled to keep from losing control over myself.

It was Jackson.

He couldn't hurt me.

So, relax… just calm down…

"Is that okay with you?" Whittemore raised his brows as he peered down his nose at my slight frame.

Nodding my head, I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling and immediately felt a sharp pain as I punctured my own skin, drawing blood.

Hoping he didn't notice or ask me any questions, I ran my tongue over the fangs that now overtook my canines.

Smiling, he stared down at me, taking in every inch of my body.

"Good, because I'm not a bad guy, Charlie, and I hope you'll come to trust that," beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

Hearing his shallow heart beat, I knew the kid must have been feeling quite ill, and as I silently nodded again, I saw the lacrosse captain's brows furrow.

Hand suddenly caressing my lips, I flinched away, lightly smacking my head against the bricks.

Staring down at the fresh blood on his thumb, Jackson's glassy blue eyes drifted up to my wide ones.

He saw the cut, but did he see my teeth?

Slightly menacing smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth, Jackson stared from the blood on his finger to my lips: "And maybe, over time, you'll trust me, too… cause I'm _very_ good with secrets."

"Charlie?" Allison's voice made the eerie and crooked grin on Jackson's handsome face falter.

"Allison," I breathed, pushing past the enraged boy clenching his jaw to remain composed.

Rushing over to her extremely confused form, I pulled the brunette by her slender arm and led us back around to the front of the building.

"What was that about?" she asked, her bright eyes taking in how shaken I appeared.

"I don't know," I mumbled as we climbed the steps, for the first time in my life grateful to be inside the walls of Beacon Hills High School. "But it was weird."

Mind racing, I knew Derek's scratch had something to do with Jackson's strange behavior.

As if I didn't have enough to worry about all ready…

"Yeah, tell me about it," the brunette with curled hair shook her head. "He was talking to me earlier…"

"About what?" my mind snapped back to the conversation at hand.

"Being friends," she furrowed her brows, appearing just as uncertain and uneasy as I felt.

"Funny… he said the same thing to me," I trailed off a bit darkly as we pushed our way down the crowded hallway.

"You buying any of it?" Allison asked, her brow cocked with doubt.

"Hell no," I shook my head, making my pretty companion smirk in agreement.

"Buying what?" Lydia literally appeared out of nowhere, flipping her strawberry blond locks as she pushed between the two of us. "Not that crusty old book you were going on about…"

Having finished all of the books I owned, my interest was peaked.

"What book?" I asked, genuinely hoping for a good recommendation.

"Oh, its just for my family history project," she explained nonchalantly. "My aunt told me to read it…"

Her aunt, huh?

Clenching my fists despite myself, I felt my pulse quicken.

Fighting to keep my anger at bay, I successfully asked in the most casual of voices: "Oh, what's it about?"

"What? You mean besides being the most _boring_ story ever told?" Lydia Martin dramatically asked, rolling her hazel eyes.

"Yes," I responded, eyes intently focused on Allison.

Stay calm, Charlie. This is an opportunity to figure out what she knows…

Opening her mouth, and excited Allison began to explain: "Well, back in…"

"_SNORE!_" Lydia cut her off loudly. "To save you from being put into a coma, her ancestors apparently killed some giant man-eating wolf thingy… whoop-dee-doo…"

Clever, Kate, very clever. You want Allison to figure out her legacy all on her own.

"Well I think it's interesting," I smiled brightly, planning on wedging my way into every research session I could.

"Thank you," Allison shot the snobby queen bee a pointed look before flashing her own, dimpled grin in my direction.

"You know, I've read a lot on old folklore and legends… so if you want any help," I offered as coolly as possible.

"Really?" the brunette asked eagerly. "That would be awesome! You're literally the best!"

Hazel eyes darting between both Allison and my smiling faces, Lydia let out a loud, disgruntled cry.

"Oh my God… I can't be around this… you two are hopeless. Later, losers," she stormed off, shaking her curly haired head in exasperation, leaving my companion and I to stare after her, sniggering.

* * *

"Let's go, guys," Coach Finstock impatiently called from his position in front of his desk. "Sit, sit, sit… we got a lot to cover today."

All ready at my desk, I went over my new game plan of weaseling my way into Allison's project. Hopefully then I could spend some time at her place, figure out the layout of the house, learned about what type of artillery and security system they had, and keep close tabs on Kate.

It seemed straightforward enough…

"Let's go! Quicker, quicker!" Bobby snapped his fingers as he barked at the tired students shuffling in.

Closing my notebook, my eyes landed on Scott and Stiles entering the classroom, and as the Scott took the seat behind me, his chocolate brown eyes landed on Allison quickly approaching him.

"Stiles, sit behind me, dude," he hissed, but before the gawky teen could get over there in time, Allison claimed the desk behind her new boyfriend.

"Hey, I haven't seen you all day," she smiled sweetly, while I heard Scott's heart pounding erratically in his chest.

Catching Stiles trip and basically fall into the desk beside me, I stifled a laugh as I continued to watch Scott offer his lame excuse of being 'really busy'.

"When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I'm totally disconnected from you," the brunette inquired, choosing to belief the young wolf's cliché cover.

"Ugh, soon... real soon," he muttered.

"I changed lab partners, by the way," she trailed off, eyes glistening as she stared at her confused hubby.

"Oh? To who?" McCall inquired as Danny and Kyle took their seats in front of me.

"To you, dummy," she teased him with a brilliant smile.

"Me?" he asked, the dread quite apparent in his voice, but as he noticed her smirk falter, he quickly added: "I-I mean, are you sure?"

"Yeah," she leaned in, whispering seductively. "This way I have an excuse to bring you home and, you know… _not _study."

Hearing his breath hitch, I immediately felt my face get hot from overhearing the words that were obviously meant to be private, and as I turned back around, I was met with a staring, freckled face grinning at me.

"Hey there, Charlie," Kyle eyed me closely, tone of voice cocky.

Staring back at him, I unenthusiastically responded: "Hi, Greenberg."

Spotting Stiles raising his brows a few times and chuckling at me in amusement, I shot him a dirty look before folding my arms and staring out the window, making Kyle glumly turn back around.

"You don't mind, do you?" the brunette continued.

"I just… I don't want to bring your grade down," Scott made yet another poor excuse.

"Well, I mean, maybe I can bring your grade up," she countered, clearly not catching the hint. "Come to my place tonight, around 8:30…"

"T-tonight?" Scott repeated, his heart rate uneven.

I knew he was supposed to meet Derek tonight, so this whole situation was about to get _way_ more interesting…

"Let's settle down!" Coach ordered, making everyone finally go quiet. "Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading…"

Hand immediately flying up, Kyle smugly leaned back.

Although he was miserable at lacrosse, the handsome Irish boy was actually quite intelligent… especially in the math and sciences department…

"Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you have no life and probably did the reading five times," Bobby Finstock barely even glanced at the kid now slapping Danny, who was sniggering beside him.

"How about… McCall," the teacher stopped in front of the uneasy teen.

"W-what?" Scott stammered nervously, obviously not having opened a book for this class since the semester started.

"The reading," the man with crazy, spiked brown hair crossed his arms.

"Last night's reading?" Scott weakly asked for clarification.

"No, I meant how about, ugh, the reading of the Gettysburg Address?" Mr. Finstock retorted.

"What?" a puzzled McCall muttered, brows furrowed.

Literally wanting to slam my face into my palm, I, like the rest of my peers, stared at the extremely painful exchange going on.

"That's sarcasm. You familiar with the term 'sarcasm,' McCall?" our economics teacher shot back, brows raised.

Glancing over at Stiles, Scott smirked a little: "Very."

Nodding his head, Stilinski smugly sat back while the coach merely rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Did you do the reading or not?" he impatiently demanded.

"I… I think I forgot," Scott mumbled as he looked down at the pencil he was nervously playing with.

"Nice job, McCall… it's not like you're averaging a 'D' in this class," Bobby Finstock retorted bitingly, before exclaiming: "Come on, buddy! You know I can't keep you on the team if you got a 'D'…"

Chocolate brown eyes floating up to the coach's probing ones, Scott merely remained silent, though I could hear his heart rate beginning to rise.

Glancing at Stiles, I curtly nodded to the device poking out of his bag, and while the pale boy with short brown hair maladroitly pulled out the coach's phone, Finstock continued to push the boy in front of him: "How about you summarize, ugh, the previous night's reading?"

Looking down, Scott merely hung his head.

"No? How about the, um, the night before that?" Coach continued, but Scott simply shook his head.

Voice rising in frustration, Bobby Finstock pressed some more: "How about you summarize anything you've ever read… in your entire life?"

His pulse now racing, both Stiles and I watched the monitor approaching the orange level.

Oh crap…

"I… I, um," Scott stuttered, unable to think, the fact that everyone was staring no doubt making it even more embarrassing.

"What about a blog? Or, or… the back of a fricken cereal box?" Bobby's voice was almost a shout as he sprayed Scott's irritated face with spit. "No? How about the adults only warning from your favorite website you visit every night?"

Eyes blazing, the coach then stormed to the front of the room as he continued to rant, unaware that his star player's balled fists were concealing claws.

"How about _anything_?" his tone was dripping with mockery and disapproval as he continued to brutally ream the kid out. "Thank you, McCall, thank you... thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your entire generation! You just blew it for everybody."

With the monitor now approaching red, I saw Stiles cover his slightly opened mouth, his own pulse now racing.

"Calm down, buddy," I heard the boy with light brown eyes mutter nervously, as I myself felt like rushing to the front of the room and decking the bastard right in the nose.

"Thanks… next practice you can start with suicide runs," Finstock continued to unknowingly prod a dangerous beast. "Unless that's too much reading…"

And just as I thought McCall was literally going to shift right then and there, something amazing happened.

His heart rate dropped out of nowhere.

Exchanging thoroughly confused, yet relieved looks with one another, both Stiles and I slowly turned and found Allison Argent's delicate hand gently holding her boyfriend's human one underneath the desk.

Raising my brows, I leaned back as Stiles let out an audible sigh.

That was way too close of a call…

* * *

"It's her," Stiles breathlessly stated as he bounced around Scott and I. "It's Allison."

"What do you mean?" McCall's chocolate brown eyes were completely lost.

"Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her?" Stilinski continued with a rushed and excited voice, face and gestures beyond animated.

Someone's medicine definitely wore off…

Head throbbing from my own lack of medication, I bit my tongue and restrained myself from whacking the flushed teen on the head with my textbook.

"Okay… so?" Scott asked, brows furrowed.

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field," Stiles almost fell down the stairwell for he was not paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was doing.

"Yeah, I did," he recalled thoughtfully, but I knew he still wasn't making the connection.

Thoroughly out of patience, I cut in: "She's what brought you back, Scott. She's what kept you from shifting on the field… and why you didn't kill her when she went after you in the locker room."

"Exactly!" Stiles cried, snapping and pointing.

Shaking his head, Scott argued: "No, no, no… that's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her or… or touching her…"

"No, that's not the same thing," I interjected, a small, knowing smirk tugging on my lips.

"What? What do you mean?" McCall naively asked.

"When you're doing that, you're just another hormonal teenager," I explained, but when the young wolf simply stared back at me blankly, I sighed in exasperation, running a hand through my hair.

"She means when you're thinking about sex," Stiles pulled open the door, allowing me to pass through first.

And as a crooked, dimpled grin began to spread across Scott's face, Stilinski inquired flatly: "You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?"

Clearing his throat and blushing under both my and Stiles' steady gazes, Scott mumbled: "Yeah, sorry."

Christ, were teenage boys always this easily distracted?

"That's fine," Stiles waved him off as we continued down the hall.

"Look, back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand… that was different, okay?" I impatiently stated, stopping in front of room 103. "She doesn't make you weak, Scott. She actually gives you control."

"So she's his anchor?" Stiles asked, whilst I searched through my bag for the pink piece of paper.

"Yeah, because I love her," Scott blurted out thoughtfully.

Both of our heads shooting up, we stared at the tan boy as his words finally sunk in.

"D-did I just say that?" his eyes were wide, face stunned.

"Yes, you just said that," I sighed lazily, going back to searching my bag.

"I…I love her," Scott repeated himself, still in awe.

"That's great," Stiles seemed just as unphased by this realization as I was. "Now, moving on…"

"No, but really," a dopey grin spread across McCall's face. "I think I'm totally in love with her!"

Shaking my own head, I pulled out the pink slip.

"And that's beautiful," Stilinski sarcastically retorted, "But before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please?"

"I'm in love with Allison," was all Scott could manage to utter, making his friend throw his hands up in frustration.

"_And_ that's my cue," I chuckled as Stiles literally looked like he was going to rip his hair out.

"No… you can't leave me with him," his voice was pleading.

Waving the little paper in his flushed face with a coy smirk, I sighed: "Sorry, but detention calls…"

Wide light brown eyes shooting over to his smitten best friend, he cried: "What am I supposed to do with him?"

"I don't know… test this whole Allison theory," I suggested, oddly cheerful as I closed the door behind me and took one last look at the absolutely maddened Stiles Stilinski's face.

Detention was gonna suck, but knowing that Stiles was stuck dealing with an irritatingly love-struck Scott McCall was at least an amusing concept to think about for my hour of prison time.


	12. Chapter 12

**HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! WOWWWW! Almost ten reviews for last chapter! I literally teared up reading all of them (not even kidding)! Literally that just made my week get such amazing feedback! I'm literally so honored to hear how much you guys are connecting with Charlie, becoming invested in her role in the story, and just as excited about what's to come as I am!**

**A special thanks to: **

**xxxanniexx, EmeraldGrey22, cat-afterlife, StarLighter16, msspicyjalapeno, and High Serpent King**

**for their comments and support! You guys are amazing! Also for the unknown, but still AMAZING guests who comments, THANK YOU GUYS AS WELL!  
and to any new followers/favorites, I am so humbled and thankful!**

**Okay, I'm almost done rambling! This chapter is shorter, but a lot goes on here... it also sets up Nightschool, which I AM WAYYYYY EXCITED TO WRITE since we haven't had many scary action scenes yet! Okay well, buckle up, cause the this chapter and the next two updates to come will be quite eventful! ;)**

**So please, read and enjoy (and keep those reviews coming!)!**

**TWELVE: PSYCHOTIC GIRL**

The chemistry lab was empty with the exception of the detention proctor, a tall boy with wavy, light brown hair, and myself.

The clock ticked on, making time crawl by, and by the time I had been seated for twenty minutes, I was all ready getting antsy.

What kind of detention wouldn't allow students to do any work?

This was absolute bullshit.

Drumming my fingers on the desk, I stared at the blurred sight of my crimson polish, unblinking and trying to keep myself calm.

I had been sweating the second I stepped foot into the stuffy room, but from glancing around at the other two individuals seated, I could tell it was most definitely the withdrawal making things so unbearable.

Shifting positions uncomfortably, I shimmied off my blazer, hoping my white and black striped tank would breathe more.

"First detention?" the kid seated beside me asked.

Glancing over at his fair and handsome face, I nodded my head.

"I wish I could say you get used to it," he muttered, dark blue eyes monitoring the teacher reading the Beacon Hills Herald, the front page ironically reading _Animal Attacks Promised to Cease – Mountain Lion Put Down Outside Local High School_.

"What are you in for?" he whispered.

"No one showed up for the stupid parent-teacher thing last night," I mumbled, noticing a chip in my dark red polish.

"Ah, they get me for that every semester," the attractive boy folded his arms. "Let me guess… parents too busy with work or their book club?"

Picking at my nails, I glanced up at the kid and stated flatly: "Mom's dead and my dad's a bastard."

Oddly enough, the teenager's expression remained quite unphased by my words. Usually people would get awkward or uncomfortable after such an unpleasantly blunt confession, and would even look at me with pity, but not this boy.

His chiseled features remained as calm and casual as they were before, but his lovely navy eyes seemed to hold an expression of understanding.

"Sounds like your old man and mine should get together," he replied, fumbling through his pockets.

Unable to sit still, I bounced my leg while thinking of a decent response to the kid's odd remark.

Assuming we were kindred spirits of sorts, I probably should have at least nodded in acknowledgement, or even smiled, but I was simply too testy.

My head hurt and I literally went from sweltering hot to shivering.

"Here," he slid a couple of pieces of gum across the table, his eyes focused on the teacher still obliviously reading.

Looking down, I raised my brows at him, a questioning expression plastered on my face.

"You're a smoker, aren't you?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Completely caught off guard, I had to inquire what gave me away.

"My pop smokes like a chimney, so I can always tell when someone's jonesing for one," he explained.

Nodding, I knew this would do absolutely nothing for my withdrawal, however the cinnamon gum certainly couldn't hurt my cravings.

Offering a small, grateful smirk, I opened the wrapper and put the first piece in my mouth.

"Thanks," I sincerely stated, making the boy with thick light brown hair flash a shy, dimpled grin.

I recognized him from somewhere, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Feeling I should try to be friendlier to the kind-hearted and quiet boy, I introduced myself: "I'm Charlie, by the way."

"I know," he responded, but looked as if he immediately regretted admitting that, as if it made him sound like some sort of stalker.

With his heartbeat quickening and face flushing, I couldn't help but crack a small grin.

"W-we have gym together… and study hall," he responded, trying to save himself.

Pausing, I let him sweat it out a bit more under my scrutinizing gaze, but then I finally stated airily: "I know."

Literally looking like an immense weight had been lifted off him, the boy's once tense shoulders drooped back to their usual slumped position.

He was very attractive, but I could tell he didn't see it in himself, and this lack of self-confidence came across in his poor posture and inability to look me in the eye for longer than thirty seconds.

It was somewhat endearing, for I always had a bit of a weak spot for the underdog…

Guess it was cause I could relate…

"Sorry, but I don't remember your name," I whispered after a moment or two of awkward silence.

Raising his brows, the teenager seemed quite surprised someone actually wanted to know who he was, and after a shocked moment or two, he stammered: "Oh, I'm ugh, I'm Isaac."

"Nice to meet you, Isaac," I beamed, feeling an odd connection to him.

He reminded me of an old neighbor named Logan I had back in New York. Quiet and reserved, he came from a horrible home life, where the entire apartment complex could literally hear things being broken by his dad whilst his drunken mom would just wail and scream all night. He was one of the sweetest kids you could ever meet, and we'd even go to the bars and get drunk together sometimes.

Then, one night, he was gone.

Someone said he took off, planning to hitchhike his way to California, and others guessed he joined the army. Either way, my callous self merely thought 'good for him' and went on about my life.

Funny how certain people just pop back up in your memory…

"Brian, I got two more for you," a stern voice made me look away from the ceiling tiles I had been absentmindedly counting. "Found them fighting in the parking lot."

"Bring them in," the proctor sighed, peering at the two sheepish boys being ushered into the room.

There, beaming the moment his light brown eyes met mine, was a somewhat proud Stiles Stilinski taking the lead, whilst a beaten up and grumpy Scott followed.

Heading towards the desk right next to Isaac and mine, the teacher spoke up harshly: "Nope. You two, other there."

Stopping in his tracks, Stiles frowned and turned to glance at the table a row over.

Making a face, the two boys took their seats while I sniggered to myself.

Those two literally couldn't stay out of trouble to save their lives…

"Um, Mr. Harris, I know it's detention and all, but I was wondering if I can get out early… I have work and I don't want to be late," McCall timorously asked.

Staring at him with the most uncaring of expressions, the proctor merely stated: "Sit."

Hanging his head, Scott slid into the seat beside Stiles.

"And no reading!" the teacher barked again, making Isaac and I turn to see Stilinski muttering to himself and sourly shoving his books back into his backpack.

Then, after a couple of minutes of silence where the proctor went back to reading, I heard Scott whisper: "You knew I'd heal, right?"

"Yup," Stilinski grunted.

"And you did it to help me learn?"

"Yup."

"But it was also partially a punishment," McCall rightly assumed.

"Yeah, well that one's obvious," Stiles retorted, his leg restlessly bouncing.

"Dude, you're my best friend… I can't have you being angry at me," Scott's voice was pleading as he eyed his friend closely.

With the teacher crossly glancing up at their not-so-secret conversation, he gave his silent warning, shutting them up for a moment or two.

"I'm not angry anymore, okay?" Stiles hissed, as I shook my head.

They never knew when to shut up, did they?

"You have something, Scott… whether or not you want to," Stilinski spoke seriously. "You can do things no one else can do, and that means you don't have a choice anymore, okay? It means you gotta do something."

"I know," Scott muttered, just as humorlessly. "And I will," the gravity was quite apparent in his determined words.

"All right, will the both of you shut up, or should I write you up to spend another afternoon here?" the proctor scolded them, eyeing them harshly over his glasses.

"Ugh, no… sorry," Scott apologized, though his partner merely rolled his eyes, tapping the edge of a desk like a drum-set.

Head throbbing, I exchanged an exasperated look with Isaac.

"Could you stop doing that?" I hissed, shooting Stiles a dirty look.

Raising his brows, his eyes widened: "What? What am I doing?"

Clenching my teeth, I simply glared down at his incessantly tapping hands.

"Oh… you mean this?" he whispered back, feigning innocence as he continued to make that migraine inducing beat.

Glowering at his slightly smirking face, I leaned closer and growled: "I'm gonna break those scrawny little arms of yours _real_ soon."

Pausing mid-air, Stiles was obviously a bit intimidated and didn't quite know how to react right away, but after a moment of thought, he smiled cheekily and began thumping away again.

Erupting in his own furious chuckles at the sight of my face, I had to shoot Scott death rays to shut him up.

"Miss Hale! Stop talking!" the teacher snarled, only causing Dumb and Dumber to snigger some more.

Face slightly flushed, I huffed and crossed my arms, glaring back up at the ceiling.

God, I hated school…

Pocket suddenly vibrating, I glanced up at the unaware teacher who had resumed reading and quickly yanked it out.

_Beacon Hills Crossing Home. Fifteen minutes. – Derek_

Pursing my lips, I clicked the delete button before shoving it back into my pocket.

Screw him!

If he thinks he can just tie me up for being loyal to _our_ family, and then expect me to show up whenever he comes calling, he's got another thing coming.

No.

He should learn to treat me with some friggin respect.

Flipping my hair out of my face, I settled more in my seat, planning to sit there for the rest of detention and leave my older cousin out to dry, but with each passing second, with each grating tick of the clock, I began to get anxious.

Picking at my nails, I gnawed on my lip as my mind began to play around with all of the possible dangerous situations he could get himself into.

No, he deserves whatever he gets!

But, what if something serious happened?

Who was I kidding? Derek always ended up being just fine…

Unless this ended up being the one case he wouldn't wind up being fine…

Dammit.

Again, you are such a major sucker, Charlie.

Mentally yelling at myself, I abruptly rose from my seat and gathered my things, while all three boys stared on in confusion.

"Ugh, Mr. Harris," I walked up to him, trying to appear and sound timid.

"What are you doing out of your seat?" he inquired a bit rudely.

Swallowing my pride, I let his attitude pass.

"I, um, I need to go to the bathroom," I muttered softly.

Glancing at the clock, the man in glasses stated evenly: "You can hold it for another 25 minutes."

Shifting positions, I shook my head and said with a somewhat beseeching tone: "No… I, um, I can't…"

"And why not?" his voice was strained with irritation.

"Well, um… it's sort of a woman thing," I innocently delivered my lie.

Facial expression immediately becoming uncomfortable, the teacher was clearly wondering whether he should follow protocol or not.

"Psh, like that's gonna work," I heard Stilinski scoff to Scott.

"Please, Mr. Harris… I _really _need to go," I begged, crossing my legs a little bit to be more dramatic.

Still conflicted, the uncertain teacher finally caved: "Okay, fine. Just be quick."

"Oh yeah, sure," I sighed in relief, "Thank you _so_, so much."

"Yeah, yeah, just come right back here," he picked back up the paper after handing me the bathroom pass.

Turning, my urgent facial expression gave way to a boastful grin, aimed directly at my critics.

"Oh come on!" the boy with short brown hair practically cried, while I gave all three boys a final wave before slipping out of room 103.

Smile then falling, I walked down the hall with a purpose, staring ahead seriously as I tossed the pass into the garbage.

Derek had better be dying…

* * *

Propped up against the familiar black Camaro, I waited in the dark parking lot with my arms crossed and a large frown on my face.

If Derek wanted me here for some stupid and useless family reunion, he had another thing coming…

He was lucky I even showed up…

Closing my eyes, I tried to think about how I could use that prescription pad at Beacon Hills Hospital.

I wasn't a former patient and had no adults to sign for me, so they were certainly going to do a background check on the long-deceased physician.

How was I going to hold off until then?

Everything was either giving me extreme anxiety or royally pissing me off, and both of those emotions did not bode well for keeping myself from shifting this upcoming full moon.

I needed to be focused and in full control.

Kate needed to die, and her partner during the night of the arson, whichever Argent that may be, also needed to pay.

But how could I expect myself to come up with a good plan, let alone carry it out, when I was a complete mess?

Frustrated, cold, and officially out of my pills, I didn't even hear Derek come out.

"I'm surprised you came," his voice made me jump a bit.

"Yeah, well last time I didn't you almost died so," I trailed off, shooting him daggers.

"You're on edge," he observed, walking around to stand in front of me, undoubtedly listening to my erratic heartbeat.

"Maybe I just don't like you," I shot back bitingly.

Merely staring down at me with those probing green eyes, Derek remained silent.

Impatient and just wishing to go home and work on my secret, diabolical plan, I grunted: "Why are we here?"

"You know why."

Again with the vague and altogether useless responses…

"No, Derek, I don't," I tried to keep my voice even.

"The nurse said that since the fire, Peter hasn't spoken or moved… hasn't even blinked… he's just been unresponsive," my older cousin explained the apparent plight and hardship the stupid vegetable had to endure for six years.

"Karma's a bitch… so again, why am I here?" I callously inquired.

""He responded to you," he stated simply.

"What are you talking about?" I shook my head, expression and tone a snotty one.

"That night when I brought you guys here… you said his name and he looked right at you," my older cousin recalled, staring down at me with an extremely serious look.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" I retorted coldly.

"It should!" Derek snapped in frustration.

"Why? Cause he's my father?" I shot back, voice just as vexed at my cousin's. "Ted Bundy would make a better dad than he was…"

Obviously finding my statement completely outrageous, Derek let out a loud guffaw.

"Don't be so dramatic."

Glaring at his stubborn face, I hissed darkly: "I'm going home, and the next time you call me, you better be either _A_ fatally wounded or _B_ killing someone… and preferably A…"

Then, turning to storm off, Derek spoke coolly: "It made a spiral on Scott's window."

Freezing in my tracks, I asked with my back still facing my older cousin: "What?"

"The Alpha… it drew the spiral on Scott's car window," he stated again.

Turning around, I looked at him with an unsettled look.

What the Hell was going on?

Was the Alpha one of us?

Did another Hale escape the fire?

What beef did he have with the town?

"When?" I asked slowly.

"Last night."

"And yet another thing you elected not to tell me," I said through clenched teeth, temper flaring up.

"Well maybe if I didn't have to detain you," he countered, voice vibrating with resentment.

Shooting him a dirty look, I stomped back over to Derek.

"Let me guess, you were hoping Peter would magically snap out of his catatonic state and actually _help_ you figure out who the Alpha is?" I raised my brow doubtfully.

"He'd know if someone else made it out," my cousin explained his reasoning, eyes judgmentally staring me down.

Knowing exactly what was going through his mind, I snapped defensively: "You mean since he didn't run off and hide like I did…"

"I'm not saying that," his poker face was horrible.

"Sure you're not," I narrowed my eyes, feeling rage bubbling up inside of me.

My cousin always thought I should've died with the rest of them, or at least tried to fight off the arsons, but oh how the tables have turned cause now that we knew Kate was involved, look who was getting cold feet…

"Can we just focus here?" his patience was wearing thin.

"Fine," I spoke harshly.

"So you'll try to talk to him?" he raised his thick black eyebrows.

Laughing coldly, I stated: "Not a chance."

"Charlie!"

"You can get as pissed as you want, but I don't care," I crossed my arms defiantly. "Peter Hale deserved to die in that fire, and there is no way in Hell that I'm helping him get out that wheelchair. The world's a better place with him rotting away in there."

"So what? You're just gonna keep letting the Alpha run around and kill people?" Derek furiously demanded.

"No," I sighed in boredom, pulling out my cellphone and opening the web browser.

"What are you doing?" he asked, brows furrowed and muscular arms folded.

Typing away, I immediately found what I was looking for and loaded the image.

"Showing you that we don't need Peter Hale," I triumphantly tossed him the phone, watching his green eyes widen at the sight of a dead deer recently found with a deep spiral etched in its side.

* * *

"You sure he's the one that looked at the body?" Derek growled dangerously as the Camaro screeched to a halt outside the small, one-story building.

"It's the only animal clinic in the county, so I'd say I'm more than sure," I responded snottily, head hurting even more from the abrupt stop.

Not even bothering to reply, Derek jumped out of the car, leaving me to rush after him.

God, he had some fire under his ass tonight…

Feeling faint myself, I stumbled into the clinic a few strides behind Derek's powerful ones, hand trembling as I pushed the swinging door open into the very same examining room where my older cousin almost died.

"C-can I help you?" the African American man in the white lab coat asked, obviously surprised to see us rather than Scott.

"I hope so," Derek's eyes were blazing. "We want to know about the animal you found with the spiral on its side."

"Excuse me?" the bald, middle-aged man chuckled anxiously. "What animal?"

His heart rate was quickly increasing, as was both my cousin's and my own.

"The deer… three months ago," I showed him the image on my phone, sensing he was lying to us based on the expression on his face.

"O-oh… this? I-I remember this," he looked between our stern faces with a weak smile. "It's just a deer… and I didn't find it."

"But you examined it," my cousin pressed on, clearly intimidating the man.

"T-the authorities called me because they wanted to know if I'd seen anything like it before," he stammered, pulse now extremely high.

"What did you tell them?" Derek's green eyes narrowed, for we both knew that the vet was not telling us the truth.

Hot flash coming on, my mouth went dry as I watched beads of sweat form on the nervous man's brow.

I didn't have patience for this… I didn't have patience to deal with liars…

He was standing in the way of us killing the thing that murdered Laura… from killing the Alpha…

"Well, I told them no, of course," he stated, and though he had a convincing smile and tone of voice, I couldn't take it anymore.

Vision going blurry, I stepped forward and pushed past Derek.

Blood now pumping furiously, I stared up into the man's fretful brown eyes: "You hear that, cousin?"

"H-hear what?" the vet's eyes darted between my cousin and I.

"It's the sound of you lying," my voice was much deeper and more menacing.

And as I allowed my vision to go black and white, the middle aged man yelped: "Oh God!"

"Who are you protecting?" I roared, flashing my fangs.

"Okay, okay! There's… there's the keys to the drug locker over in that drawer," he put his hands up, shielding his face.

"I'm not here for drugs," I snarled, clawed hands scratching the wall right next to his trembling face.

"Charlie," Derek warned, but his voice was muffled from the sound of pumping blood ringing in my ears.

"I want to know why you're lying!" I picked the man up with ease, tossing him across the room.

Grunting, the vet cowered in the corner and pled: "P-please… I don't know what you're talking about…"

And as I stared as his juicy jugular vein, I felt that familiar primal urge to kill wash over me.

Slowly approaching, my eyes took in his petrified form.

"Sure you don't," I hissed, and rather than giving in, I kicked the poor guy square in the face, knocking him out cold.

I fell to the ground, chest emitting loud, frustrated, animalistic growls while my older cousin just stood in the corner, watching in disapproval.

I had almost lost it, and Derek saw the entire thing.

Closing my eyes, I hyperventilated a little as memories of the incident flashed across my spinning mind.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Hearing rustling, I slowly looked up, my vision once again in color, though my heart rate was still through the roof.

Stepping over me as if I weren't even there, Derek scooped the vet up and began tying him up.

Shaking in a cold sweat, I pushed myself up off the ground and took in the destroyed room.

"D-Derek," my voice trembled as I watched him securely fasten the ropes around the man's wrists and ankles.

"Hand me that rag," his voice was low, tone somewhat disgusted.

"Derek," I repeated myself, slowly walking over, my eyes welling up with burning tears of shame.

"I said hand me that rag!" he barked in my face, green eyes looking at me with the harshest of gazes.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I silently obeyed and as I watched him gag the poor guy with the towel, I tried to apologize: "Derek… I… I'm…"

"Save it," he shot back bitterly, looking at me as if I were mere trash.

"What are you doing?" Scott McCall's shrill and frantic voice interrupted us. "Oh my God!"

Rushing over, the young wolf shoved my cousin out of the way and examined his battered and unconscious boss.

"Look, if he's awake, he can heal. But if he's knocked out, he can't," Derek explained, still giving me the darkest of looks.

"Are you out of your mind? What are you talking about?" Scott's eyes flashed yellow.

"You wanna know what the spiral means, Scott?" Derek got into the boy's face. "It's our sign for a vendetta… for revenge."

Chocolate brown eyes darting over to me, I merely gazed down at my black boots, hugging my own trembling form.

What if that guy could ID me? Or Derek?

Why did I always mess shit up?

"It means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied…"

"You think _he's_ the Alpha?" McCall asked incredulously.

"We're about to find out," Derek spoke forebodingly, getting ready to smack the African American man awake again.

"Touch him one more time and you'll see how angry I can get," Scott stepped protectively in front of his boss.

"Well do you have any other plan?" Derek's voice was sharp.

"Just… just give me an hour," the wheels in the young wolf's head were obviously turning.

"Then what?" my older cousin demanded impatiently.

"Meet me at the school… in the parking lot…"

* * *

"Where's my boss?" Scott demanded with an odd amount of nerve as all four of us stood outside in the vacant Beacon Hills High School parking lot.

"In the back," Derek nodded curtly to the bound African American man sprawled in the backseat, still knocked out.

"Well he looks comfortable," Stiles muttered sarcastically, his head cocked to the side at the most peculiar of angles.

Making a face, Scott inhaled deeply and then took off to head up the front steps without a word.

"Whoa, wait… where are you going?" Derek called after both Scott and Stiles, making them stop.

"You said I was linked to the Alpha," McCall stretched his arms out, voice impatient. "I'm gonna go see if you're right."

Shivering from the cold, achy sweats continuing to plague my body currently going through a brutal withdrawal, I watched my two peers run up the steps and cut the thick chains locking the double doors with a massive pair of yellow bolt-cutters.

Head still throbbing, I saw the two boys disappear into the dark building and couldn't help but mutter: "Well this can't be good."

The second the words left my lips however, Derek merely shot me such a harsh look that I immediately shut up and looked down at my feet.

We hadn't spoken since the animal clinic, and the car ride was a tense one to say the least, making part of me wish that I could swap places with the veterinarian who was still bound and gagged in the back seat.

Derek had teetering between acting like I wasn't even there to glowering at me in utter distaste, but his reaction had nothing on how absolutely awful I felt.

I wanted to kill that man.

And I would've if we didn't need him…

Staring ahead, arms folded, I couldn't take the stony silence anymore.

"Can we just get this over with," I sighed, preparing to hear every one of my dark thoughts about myself put to words by my irate older cousin.

"Get what over with?" his voice was flat, though his knuckles were white from balling his fists so hard.

"I almost lost control… so ream me out… yell, scream, do what you need to," I looked over at him, listening to his quickly beating heart.

"I have nothing to say to you," he continued to stare ahead into the black windows of the high school.

Not expecting that response, my mouth hung slightly open.

How did he have _nothing_ to say?

Derek always loved jumping on any opportunity to tell me when I messed up, and this definitely counted as one of those times…

But before I could think of how to respond however, a grating and shrill noise, resembling the sound of a cat simultaneously being strangled and beaten with a stick, sounded from the loudspeakers.

Both of us were forced to cover our ears and yelp out in pain, and my headache was now multiplied by a thousand. By the time the sad excuse for a werewolf howl ended, I even had to check my hands to see if my ears were bleeding.

"Holy shit," I laughed in disbelief over how pathetic that was. "Are we _really_ relying on Scott to bring the Alpha here?"

Glancing over at my cousin for a minute or two, I then realized that Derek was not going to answer or even acknowledge me.

"Jesus, Derek!" I cried in exasperation, walking directly in front of him so he'd have no choice but to look at me. "Say I was reckless, that I'm stupid, that I lack control… Hell, call me a junkie!" I oddly wished he'd holler at me like he usually did.

"Why should I? It's not like you listen to me anyway," his green eyes were burning as stared down his nose at me. "You always think you got all the answers," he shook his head.

"Okay, I'm a stubborn ass… I'm a Hale… it comes with the territory," I stated the honest truth.

We were all a headstrong, hot-blooded bunch…

"Yeah, well I'm done with it," he muttered under his breath.

Furrowing my brows, my stomach knotted as I began to have the sinking feeling that I was about to hear something way worse than I had originally anticipated.

"D-done with what?" I asked anxiously.

"You said you were finished, right?" he asked, scanning the shadowy Beacon Hills parking lot for any sign of movement, "That after we got rid of the Alpha and the arsons you'd leave."

Green eyes finally floating over to my speechless face, he continued darkly: "Well I think I agree with you."

Blinking, my mind tried to grasp what he was saying as I heard the sound of the loud speaker coming on again.

"W-what… what are you saying?"

Looking me square in the eyes, Derek stated slowly and callously: "I'm saying when we're done in Beacon Hills, I want you to go… and stay gone…"

And while a loud, echoing, beastlike roar reverberated throughout the property, shaking the ground and rattling the windows, my heart broke as Derek's words literally cut through me like a dagger.

* * *

"I'm gonna kill the both of you!" Derek furiously barked, as a giddy Stiles and proud Scott bound back towards us as we stood by the two vehicles. "What the Hell was that?"

Barely even paying attention to the two boys' confused looks, I stared at my feet, fighting back tears.

Who was I kidding?

I knew I didn't ever intend to actually turn my back on my only family, and now… now he wanted nothing to do with me.

I had done what I do best: screw up and push people away…

"What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?" my cousin's angered voice echoed throughout the dark lot.

"Sorry, I didn't know it would be that loud," Scott's smile still hadn't faded.

Even I would have been impressed by such a howl if I wasn't so upset…

Wrapping my arms even tighter around my shivering frame, I continued to stare at up at the tree line in the distance, begging for my tears to absorb back into my eyes before anyone noticed.

"Yeah, it was loud," Stiles rocked on the balls of his feet before singing: "And it was _awesome!_"

"Shut up," Derek hissed.

"Don't be such a sour wolf," Stilinski quipped merrily, but the moment his light brown eyes landed on my visibly shaken and upset face, he furrowed his brows and shot me a look of both concern and confusion.

Sniffling, I immediately looked down, wishing I could disappear right there and then.

Why couldn't I do anything right?

I let everyone down all the time?

I should have died in that fire… and saved everyone the trouble…

"Wait, what did you do with my boss?" Scott's voice was suddenly panicked, making everyone's attention go straight to the currently empty back seat of the black Camaro.

"What? I didn't do anything," my cousin furrowed his own brows, thoroughly disturbed like the rest of us.

And then, we all heard this deep, primal roar coming from the massive beast standing just behind me.

Slowly looking up to see Stiles and Scott's wide, petrified eyes, I turned not to see the Alpha's glowing red eyes or foaming fangs, but the image of its gigantic, sharp claws jutting out of Derek's hemorrhaging chest.


	13. Chapter 13

**OH MY GOODNESS! Over 10 reviews for last chapter alone, and 50 for the entire story! You guys seriously rock! Like I always say I'm floored by the amazing support this has gotten, but can I say the responses for last chapter literally actually brought me to tears! I cannot convey how grateful I am that you all have not just read this story, but followed/favorited/reviewed it! And for everyone to be so passionate about Charlie, her relationship with Derek, Peter, and Stiles, and how she's going to progress as a character, like WOW! It makes me sooooo happy to hear how seriously you take her as a character! And some of you even stated that this is your favorite Teen Wolf fanfic?! LIKE MIND LITERALLY BLOWN! Just... I can't even speak...**

**Here's the next chapter! Action-packed as promised and I hope you like it! Next one is gonna be finishing up the Nightschool episode, so it'll be just as chaotic and crazy and fun/scary as this one! Lemme know what y'all think if you have the time!**

**I only own my OC, and Happy Easter/Passover/whatever else is going on this month! xxx**

**THIRTEEN: THE HUNTED**

Eyes widening, I stared up at my older cousin's pain-filled face as blood poured from the wound and oozed from his open mouth.

His green eyes gazed back down at me, filled with both sorrowful and apologetic tears, and my heart stopped.

No…

Brawny body tossed like a mere rag-doll into the brick wall a few yards away, I watched him crumple to the ground, motionless.

"DEREK!" I snarled through my own meager fangs as I glowered up at the beast towering over me.

"Charlie! Let's go!" Scott yanked me backwards, dragging my unwilling body towards the school.

"NO!" I roared, claws coming out of my nail beds as I tried to rip myself free from the young wolf's iron grip.

Fighting against McCall's own superhuman strength, my adrenaline and rage soon subsided as he and Stiles pushed me into the school building, slamming the doors behind us.

"LET ME GO!" I screamed, cracking voice echoing throughout the desolate hallway. "DEREK!"

"Lock it!" Scott yelled, pushing my thrashing body against the wall.

Light brown eyes flitting around, Stiles shot back in panic: "Do I look like I have the key?"

"Grab something!" Scott shouted as he watched me slowly crumble to the ground.

"Let me go! Derek!" I choked on my tears, voice wavering as rage left my body and was replaced by a crippling wave of grief. "Please, let me go out there," I woefully begged, eyes looking up into Scott's stunned chocolate ones.

"I-I'm sorry," he muttered, voice and expression filled with compassion. "I can't…"

"Dude, there's nothing here!" Stiles voice was high-pitched and desperate.

Standing up, Scott's eyes darted around for anything that could keep the Alpha out for as long as possible.

"Wait… hold on," Stilinski panted, and once his best friend looked to where his light brown eyes were focused, Scott rushed over.

"No… Stiles, don't!"

Glancing up from my spot on the ground, vision still blurry from my tears, I saw the flushed boy inhale deeply before rushing back outside.

Standing up right away, I ran over as Scott groaned under his breath: "Shit…"

Watching the lanky teen dart to the bright yellow bolt-cutters, my stomach lurched.

First Derek, and now Stiles?

Reaching for the handle, Scott commanded me: "No, Charlie… you'll only draw attention to him."

Lip trembling as I craned my neck and tried to peer into the darkness, I couldn't think straight.

That really couldn't have happened…

That had to have been a hallucination… from the withdrawal…

Derek wasn't… he couldn't be…

"Come back! Stiles, come back!" Scott screamed, prompting the gawky teen to yelp as he rushed back into the building, the snarling Alpha close behind him.

Diving into the school, McCall pulled the yellow cutters from his gasping friend's hand and locked the double doors before ducking underneath the window for cover.

All of us literally held our breath as the giant werewolf's grunts sounded from outside the doors, and then we waited until we heard nothing but silence.

"Where is it?" Stiles breathed. "Where'd it go?"

Slowly peering through the window, Scott slumped back down: "I don't know."

Then, chocolate brown eyes examining the yellow tool keeping the murderous monster out, McCall added grimly: "That won't hold, will it?"

"Probably not," Stiles admitted, his heart racing. "We need to move."

Nodding in agreement, both sweating boys immediately stood, and as they started off down the hall, they realized I was still sitting, slumped against the double doors.

Staring blankly at the floor, I couldn't move.

I felt like I was suffocating.

What was happening?

Was this real?

Was Derek really… was my cousin really _dead_?

"Charlie, come on!" I felt Stiles yank me to my feet. "We gotta keep moving…"

I blacked out.

My mind couldn't process what was going on.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in the corner of some classroom, its door barricaded while Scott and Stiles spoke in desperate and hushed voices.

"I hate your boss," Stiles words echoed in my ringing ears.

"What? You think Deaton's the Alpha?" McCall was clearly in denial.

"Yes, he's a murdering psycho werewolf!" Stilinski's voice was shrill as his arms waved about frantically.

Pausing, Scott thought: "No… he… he can't be…"

And whilst my two companions wasted vital time arguing with one another, there I stood, staring blankly ahead, eyes not really focused on the two figures standing before me.

My hands shook violently as I twisted my mother's necklace.

I felt numb, with the exception of a massive pit now eating away at my stomach.

How could this have happened?

How could Derek be dead?

My older cousin was indestructible… until he wasn't…

"Come on! He disappears and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek twenty feet through the air? That's not convenient timing," Stiles voice sounded as if he were speaking under water.

My breathing started becoming uneven as my mind's eye saw flashes of my mother, my Aunt Talia, Cora, little human Bethany and Robert, my Uncles Greg and Paul, Hannah and Cynthia, Laura, and then finally Derek.

Derek.

His pain-filled and bloody form.

The light fading from his wide, glassy green eyes.

It was all seared into my memory.

This was my entire fault… I should've sensed that thing coming...

And now, I was completely alone…

What was I going to do without him?

Hyperventilating, I turned my back to the boys, who were still oblivious to my plight, as they continued their debate.

"It's not him!" Scott's defensive words bounced around my brain as I clutched my chest, tearful eyes floating up to the moon.

That moon.

This feeling.

It all felt so familiar…

Then, it seemed as if time had stopped, with the boys' unnaturally deep and garbled voices slowing substantially down.

I was ten again.

Cora's clawed hands had just scratched my cheeks, as her commanding works echoed in my ears.

_Stop crying, Charlie…_

"It killed Derek!" Stiles sounded like he was miles and miles away.

_ Stop being afraid, Charlie..._

"No… Derek's not dead… h-he can't be," McCall's voice was slowly getting back to normal.

_ Charlie! Stop crying! Stop being afraid!_

"Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury. Scott, he's dead, and we're next!" Stilinski's frantic words meshed with my deceased cousin's orders.

_Charlie! Stop! Stop, Charlie! _

_No more tears! No more fear!_

"Okay, well then what do we do?" McCall desperately asked for ideas, as time slowly sped back up.

_Get angry..._

"We get to my Jeep, we get out of here, and you seriously think about quitting your job, good?" Stiles watched his best friend nod and rush to the large windows. "School's climate controlled… they don't open."

My spaced out form was slowly regaining feeling as I felt myself finally snapping back into reality.

"Get angry," I muttered under my breath, body still shaking, but not from shock or sorrow, but rather, every inch of me reverberated with deadly rage.

"Then we break it…"

"Which will make a lot of noise…"

Frowning, Scott peered out the window at the cars in the distance: "The we run. Really, _really_ fast."

With no one taking any notice to my murderous face, I continued to mutter my crazed words under my breath: "Get _angry…"_

"Dude, what's wrong with the hood of your Jeep?"

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," Stiles' sounded both confused and nervous.

"It's bent."

And just as those words left McCall's equally lost mouth, both boys dove to the ground, shouting: "DUCK!"

I didn't move however, body still shaking with such crippling fury that I didn't even flinch as the massive metal object just missed my contorted face, coming so close that it even blew my raven black hair back.

Broken glass still showering down, I stared ahead, eyes blazing whilst the two boys' wide, terrified eyes stared from my immobile form to the object that nearly took my head off.

"That's my battery!"

"Looks like we need another plan," Scott seemed just as uneasy about this turn of events.

"Like what?" Stilinski's voice was high-pitched, like he had just been kicked in the groin.

"Call your dad?"

"And tell him what?"

Glancing down at my balled fist, I noticed my palm was currently bleeding from my nails digging so deeply into the skin.

"I don't know, anything! Gas leak, a fire, whatever… if that thing sees a parking lot filled with cop cars, it'll take off."

"Okay, but what if it doesn't?" Stiles countered Scott's argument. "What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight… including my dad?"

I glared down at the thick red blood tricking from my palm and slowly dripping to my fingertips, where it pooled up and eventually dripped to the floor.

"They have guns…"

"Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet to even slow him down, you remember that?"

"Then we have to find a way out and just run for it."

"There's nothing near the school for at least a mile, and some of us don't have superhuman speed, Scott," Stiles words were starting to hurt my ears.

Shut up…

"Derek's car?" Scott was just as irritating now.

_Get angry!_

"That could work. We just go outside and get the keys off his body," Stiles grimaced at the thought, whilst my heart began to beat erratically inside my chest. "Then we just take his car…"

Shut up!

_Get angry!_

"And him," Scott added.

SHUT UP!

"Fine, whatever," Stilinski was none-too-happy about that part of the plan.

_GET ANGRY!_

"No one kills my cousin but me," I suddenly growled, making both panicked boys finally take notice of how absolutely crazed I looked.

"W-what?" Scott asked, as he and his best friend exchanged nervous glances.

"_No one_ kills _my_ cousin but _ME!_" I roared again, tearing apart the intricate barricade they had put up in mere seconds.

"Whoa, Charlie! W-what are you doing?" Stiles cried in alarm, as he and McCall rushed over and tried to make me stop.

Spinning around, I must have looked like quite a terrifying sight, for both boys took a timid step back as I glared up at them.

"You wanna make a run for it, I'll be the distraction," I hissed, eyes flashing dangerously as I kicked the last chair clear across the room.

"Charlie, that thing is _huge_!" Stilinski argued, eyes wide as he watched me yank the door open, ripping the knob clean off. "It'll… It'll kill you…"

I knew he was right, but I didn't care.

"Charlie, y-you can't," Scott stammered, but I merely knocked his hand off my shoulder and stormed down the desolate and dark hallway.

"Come out you son of a bitch! You wanna play? I'm _right_ here!" I screamed aggressively as my heels clacked their way down the corridor.

"_Come on_!" I barked, voice reverberating off the walls and rattling the windows. "COME ON!"

"Charlie!" I heard the sound of the two boys rushing after me.

"Don't be stupid!" Scott's voice was hushed, as if he wanted me to follow his lead.

Spinning around, I eyed the nuisance irately. "Run off and let me handle this…"

"No! You're gonna get yourself killed," McCall argued, chocolate brown eyes darting around.

"Think I give a shit?" I spat back, enraged voice shaking.

"Well we do!" Scott argued.

Completely blind with wrath, I didn't even catch that Scott had said 'we' when Stilinski was nowhere to be found.

Shoving the young werewolf back, I merely gave him a dark look before turning and bellowing again: "COME AND GET ME!"

And as the furious words erupted from my chest, I felt a sharp pain shoot from the back of my neck and down my spine.

Yelping out in pain, I heard Stiles mutter nervously: "Don't kill me for this…"

"It's coming! Hide!" I heard Scott hiss, as I felt my body being yanked into an extremely cramped and cluttered supply closet.

"Stilinski," I growled in pain as my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, my body smarting from both the crippling pain running down my entire backbone and the fact that the teen had pushed me rather hard into the shelving unit.

"Sh!" his wide, caramel brown eyes gazed down into mine as he clamped his hand around my frowning mouth.

Wanting to sock the flushed, pale boy straight in the nose, the moment his warm hand touched my skin, the pain had oddly subsided and my anger seemed to slowly melt away.

His heart was racing, as was mine, but rather than the sheer panic Stiles was experiencing, I felt something different...

Bodies pressed against one another, we waited for the Alpha's imminent assault, but for the life of me, I couldn't tear my gaze away from his slightly parted mouth, his hot, quickened breaths blowing that familiar sweet and minty scent onto my face.

Why did they care so much whether or not I lived?

And why did this particular boy always seem to be coming to my rescue?

No one ever worried about me.

I wasn't generous or funny, nor was I particularly beautiful or friendly.

Hell, I wasn't even nice, for God's sake…

I was rude and sarcastic, and always unhappy, usually even trying to make everyone else just as miserable…

So why did he think that I was worth saving?

As more time elapsed, the thick, tense silence slowly began to fade away, clearly making Stiles ease up a bit, for without warning, his light brown eyes fluttered down and met my mesmerized stare.

He swallowed hard and I immediately looked away, thanking the Lord that the cramped closet was pitch black, hiding how red my face was.

What the Hell was wrong with me?

Mind snapping back to the fact that Derek was dead, the thing that had killed him was still running loose, and the kid that hurt me was currently holding his sweaty hand over my mouth, I pushed his arm down rather gruffly.

"You're an idiot," I whispered harshly, hand going to the still sore burn on the nape of my neck.

"Says the werewolf who won't shift but still thinks it's a good idea to call out a fricken Alpha," his shot back under his breath.

Huffing, I demanded: "What the Hell did you do to me anyway? My entire back hurts…"

Making a face, the boy stuck his tongue out as he struggled to pull something from his back pocket.

"OW!" I hissed as he stepped on my foot, head bumping into mine.

"Sorry," he muttered, finally revealing the pure silver angel pin from his Jeep and flashing me an awkward yet cheeky smirk.

How friggin ironic…

"What do you do? Just carry that on you now?" I glared at the object that I once used to burn my own cousin.

"Pretty clever, huh?" his tone of voice was proud.

Staring back at him flatly, I merely grumbled snarkily under my breath: "Yeah, real clever, Yoda…"

Stiles chuckled a bit, making me smirk in spite of myself, but after hearing a sudden shuffling from outside the door, both of our grins fell.

Hoping to press my ear against the door to get a better idea of who or what was out there, I tried to push past Stilinski, however the gawky teen must have had the same idea, cause the both of us merely ended up smacking our faces against one another's, our limbs literally becoming entangled.

"Move," I hissed, wincing as both of our bodies were contorted and tangled together.

"You move," he stubbornly whispered back as we both teetered dangerously close to knocking over the massive shelving unit in the cramped supply closet.

Before either one of us could do or say anything else, however, the door suddenly opened, causing us both, as well as the closet full of brooms, buckets, and other cleaning supplies, to spill out onto the hallway's floor with a loud crash.

His nose touching mine, a stunned Stiles just stared dumbly back at me as his gangly body was sprawled out on top of mine.

Giving him a pointed look, I grunted and threw him off of my crushed form: "Get off…"

"Son of a bitch!" the surprised and furious janitor watched on as Stiles and I brushed ourselves off whilst Scott rushed out of the locker he had packed himself into.

"Quiet," Scott shushed the man while his best friend and I blushed profusely under the janitor's scrutinizing gaze.

He definitely thought we were playing some sort of twisted Seven Minutes in Heaven game or something, which was absolutely ridiculous!

"Quiet my ass!" the man in the navy blue jumpsuit barked. "What are you three doing in here? Get out!"

"Would you just listen for half a second, okay?" Stiles tried to speak up as all three of us were being ushered towards the front doors.

"Not 'okay'! Get the Hell out of here, right now," the man snapped.

Pushing the man's stiff arm off of his back, Stilinski wheeled around and tried to get out in frustration: "God! Just give me one second to…"

"Just shut up and go," the janitor cut him off, but when there was a loud crash in one of the open classrooms just next to us, the middle-aged man grumpily sighed: "What now?"

Chocolate brown eyes widening, Scott cried: "NO! Don't go in…"

But before he could finish his sentence, the door slammed shut behind the janitor, only to have the window suddenly become drenched by his splattering blood.

All three of us stared on in horror as the man shrieked and was slammed up against the glass, cracking it.

"Oh… my… God," Stiles could barely choke out as the three of us saw the janitor's screaming form get pulled off the door and disappear as a loud crash was heard.

"S-Should we do something?" Scott's trembling voice uttered the most stupid suggestion in the world.

"Better him than us," I muttered seriously, completely callous towards the poor guy's plight, but the moment those words left my lips, the door crashed down, off its hinges, for the dead and bleeding janitor had been tossed into it with a terrifying amount of force.

And as the beast let out a bone-chilling howl, bearing its frothy, foaming jaws, I felt someone's hand yank my gawking form back.

"RUN!" Scott yelled, as all three of us took off, adrenaline making us much faster than usual.

Glancing behind me, I saw the massive, black creature following closely behind, his glowing red eyes menacingly following our every move.

"He's catching up!" Stiles' frantically voiced what I was watching, my own flight instincts taking over as I watched the terrorizing Alpha bounding towards us. "And I am _not _dying in school!"

"We're not going to die," Scott shouted back, though he didn't sound too optimistic over our prospects at the moment.

Then, rounding the corner, we were temporarily out of the sights of the monstrous wolf, and seeing an opportunity to elude it, all three of us dove into the boys' locker room.

Slamming the door shut, Stiles ran a shaky hand over his head and looked around the dark, shadowy, stinky room.

"The table! Get the table!" Stiles jerkily nodded his head towards the object a few feet away, making Scott rush over to help him move it and block the door.

"God, what is he doing? Why is he doing this?" Stilinski panted as they firmly planted the table behind the door, locking the Alpha out. "What does he want?"

Pausing, a heavily breathing Scott's chocolate brown eyes met my steady gaze before he sighed deeply and admitted: "Me…"

Eyes wide, Stiles looked to me in bewilderment.

"He's stronger with a pack and he bit Scott… they're connected," I explained as we heard the large, murderous wolf tearing apart Coach Finstock's office as it moved closer to our location.

"Great… just great," Stilinski flailed about erratically. "A psychotic werewolf who's courting a teen wolf!" his eyes were wide, cheeks flushed as he cried sarcastically: "T-that's… that's just beautiful!"

Glancing from his freaking out friend to my extremely silent self, Scott appeared both scared and guilty.

He knew that all of the deaths, all of the terror, it was all over him.

I guess that's what happens when you care about people other than yourself… you feel a lot of blame…

I never felt that type of responsibility over anything, and I certainly wasn't the person people looked to when they needed help.

No, I can't say I coveted that heroic aspect of Scott's personality, and honestly, I felt sort of bad for the guy…

"All right, we have to do something," Stiles continued to pace about, babbling away.

"Like what?" Scott asked, brows raised as the clatter of shattering glass and objects being torn apart sounded from just outside the door.

"I don't know! Kill it… hurt it… inflict mental anguish on it… _something!_" Stilinski cried frantically.

"Yeah, good luck with that," I muttered under my breath, arms folded.

Shooting me an unamused look, Stiles retorted shortly: "Helpful."

Then, without warning, the gawky teen climbed on the table and craned his neck, peering out the small square window.

"What are you doing?" Scott tried to pull his best friend down, but Stiles simply waved him off.

"I just wanna get a look at it," he muttered back.

"You're crazy!" Scott hissed. "Just get down before it sees you!"

"Listen to Scott, Stiles," I tried to pull the idiotic kid back before the Alpha's claw could break through the glass and into his stupid face.

"Look, it's trapped, okay? It's not gonna get out," he confidently stated, gazing down at his best friend's uneasy face and my own stern one.

Then, turning back to the window, Stiles tapped the glass and taunted the thrashing beast pacing just outside the door: "Yeah, that's right, we got you…"

What the Hell was he doing?

He saw what that thing did to Laura and the janitor… what it did to Derek…

"Would you shut up!" Scott hissed, face now as scolding as my own.

Scoffing, Stiles continued to mock the Alpha: "I'm not scared of this thing… you hear that? I'm not scared of you!"

"Stiles…" I tried to speak up, but the all-too arrogant teen continued to sneer through the window.

"Right cause you're out there and we're in here, and you're not going any…"

Then, there was a loud crash which interrupted Stilinski's sing-song mockery, and as the sound of the heavy creature crawling around in the ceiling reached just above our heads, all three of us looked up in absolute horror.

"Good going, Stilinski," I said through clenched teeth, as we slowly backed away, wide eyes fixated on the Alpha moving about above us.

And as the tall and lanky pale teen swallowed hard, my harsh gaze landed on the ventilation grate leading out to the hallway.

Nudging the petrified and distracted Scott, I nodded over to our possible escape route, and after we curtly shook our heads, we silently agreed to make a run for it.

Yanking the teen with light brown eyes still gaping up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open, we all bolted for the grate.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or my anger and fear, maybe it was desperation, but whatever it was, I somehow managed to tap into my fully shifted strength as my clawed grip tore the metal grate, as well as part of the plaster, clean off the wall.

Just as stunned as my two companions, I stared at the immensely heavy object in my shifted claw, but with the loud bang of the Alpha crashing down from the ceiling, we all snapped out of it.

"Go! Go! Go!" Scott shouted, eyes wide as I tossed the heavy object at the quickly approaching beast in hopes of slowing it down.

Following the two boys through the hole in the wall, I tumbled onto the floor of the hallway as Scott and Stiles quickly helped me up, and as we booked it down the hall and around yet another shadowy corner, I panted: "Wait… wait…"

"What? Are you nuts?" Stiles demanded, as he and Scott skidded to a halt and turned around to where I was standing, confused frown on my face.

Listening intently, I ignored the two boys yelling at me to keep going.

It was eerily quiet in the building, clearly meaning that the Alpha was no longer following us… but why?

Where did it go?

And then I heard something… a high pitched ringing noise… a cellphone.

Chocolate brown eyes widening, Scott looked at me and asked: "D-do you hear that?"

"What are you two doing? Let's go!" Stiles was clearly still lost, unable to hear anything as his large brown eyes anxiously searched for any sign of the oddly absent monster.

"Yeah," I continued to strain my ears, ignoring all of our pounding heartbeats.

"Well I don't hear anything besides death approaching," Stilinski's voice was strained, eyes wide as they impatiently darted between Scott and I.

"I think it's a cellphone," I furrowed my brows.

"Guys… killer werewolf chasing us…" Stiles outstretched his long, gangly arms, brows raised and eyes almost popping out of his blotchy face.

"I know that ringtone," McCall murmured, face scrunched up as he tried to recall where.

And then, as horrified realization hit the both of us, Scott and I slowly turned to one another and stated fretfully: "Allison…"

* * *

"It's me," Scott's voice was strained and rushed, as Stiles and I walked behind the almost sprinting young wolf. "Where are you? Where are you right now?"

"O-on the first floor," I could hear Allison Argent's apprehensive and worried response as our footsteps echoed down the dark and empty corridor.

Hurrying down the nearest stairwell, the panicked Scott McCall demanded: "Where? Where are you exactly?"

"The, ugh, swimming pools," she responded nervously.

"Allison, get to the lobby," he commanded. "Go now."

Then, hanging up, he handed the phone back to his best friend as we ran towards the foyer of the school.

I could hear Scott's heart racing, and noticed that beads of anxious sweat had formed on his frazzled hairline.

I knew that if anything happened to her, he'd never forgive himself, and I had to admit, part of me was even feeling somewhat determined to make sure everyone stuck in this horrific ordeal would get out safely.

I certainly wasn't innocent, but they sure were, and if anyone was going to die tonight, it was going to be me.

Hell, I had nothing and nobody to really live for anyway…

Bursting through the doors, we saw the familiar curly haired brunette standing safely in the dark lobby, arms wrapped around herself as she peered around uneasily.

Collectively letting out sighs of relief at the sight of the unharmed human girl, we all rushed over as Scott asked: "Why did you come? What are you doing here?"

Eyes darting between the three of us sweating and panting before her, the brunette explained in complete confusion: "Because you asked me to…"

"Asked you to?" McCall asked, unsettled brows furrowed.

Glancing at the just as disturbed Stiles, I felt my stomach knot.

Scott's phone was still broken, and he hadn't gotten a replacement yet…

This definitely wasn't a coincidence…

"Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?" she slowly asked.

"Because I didn't," he glanced at the mysterious text that told her to come meet her boyfriend at the school.

Always the one to be thinking, Stiles blurted out: "Did you drive here?"

Warm brown eyes flitting over to the way more agitated than usual Stiles Stilinski, Allison shook her head: "No… Jackson did…"

"Jackson's here too?" Scott gaped, as did his best friend.

Great, just great… now I had another stupid teenager to worry about…

"And Lydia," Allison continued. "What's going on? Who sent this text?"

And as Stiles mouth fell open over the idea that his crush was possibly in harm's way, the doors to the western side of the building opened up with Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore walking through.

"Finally," the strawberry blonde sighed, and although she was obviously completely unaware of how dangerous this entire situation was, the tense blonde lacrosse caption standing beside her seemed to understand that something was definitely going on. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, good idea," I muttered, starting towards the front door and leading the way to our only chance of safety.

I only made it halfway across the lobby though, for the ceiling soon collapsed, making me jump back as tiles and debris slammed down right where I had been standing.

Slowly looking up, I ignored everyone's surprised and panicked shouts as my eyes met the Alpha's intimidating red ones peering down at me from its spot in the ceiling.

Taking a couple of slow steps backwards, I rejoined the group as the massive, bloodthirsty werewolf let out a rumbling and threatening growl.

"Run," I whispered, and in that split second, all six of us stampeded down the hall as the huge black monster leapt down and chased us.

Leading the pack, Jackson ushered us all into the teacher's lounge, slamming the door shut behind us and locking it.

"Help me get this in front of the door," Whittemore commanded, as Lydia, Allison, Scott, and I all nodded and began stacking tables and chairs to make a barricade.

"Wait, not here," I heard Stiles call over to us, but no one paid the eccentric teen any attention.

"What _was_ that… that _thing_ that came out of the ceiling?" Allison's voice was filled with panic, her pulse racing.

Wide, fretful brown eyes darting to her boyfriend, Argent then asked again: "Scott, what was that?"

"Could you just help me?" he brushed her off, no doubt one of his worst nightmares starting to come true.

How was he gonna keep this whole thing a secret after tonight?

How was _I _gonna keep this whole thing a secret after tonight?

Maybe it was better if they all actually did die…

"Stack more chairs," Jackson barked orders, while Stilinski continued to try to get everyone's attention.

"Guys, can we just wait a second?" he asked again, voice irritated that everyone was too preoccupied to mind him any attention.

Passing Scott the chair I had in my hand, I glanced over to where Stiles was looking and immediately realized that we had a little bit of a problem.

"You guys, listen to me… c-can we wait a second? Guys? Stiles talking," the boy with short brown hair stared at the massive wall of windows allowing the pale moonlight to illuminate the shadowy room.

And as everyone continued to frantically stack every possible object in front of the door, the gawky boy was clearly fed up with being ignored, for he cried out in vexation: "Can we hang on one second, please? HELLO!"

Finally, everyone stopped and looked at the wide-eyed boy staring them all down.

It was odd seeing the usually laidback teenager so high-strung and agitated, let alone taking control of the situation, so folding my arms, I leaned against the wall, waiting for him to continue along with the other four kids in the room.

"Okay, nice work… really, beautiful job, everyone," he sarcastically remarked, before turning around and grandly gesturing to the massive security issue everyone overlooked: "But what should we do about the 20 foot wall of windows?"

Shifting uncomfortably, everyone remained silent while I chuckled in silent disbelief.

Well, at least we were all gonna die together…

"Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here," Allison finally spoke up, voice much higher than usual whilst Lydia and Jackson nodded vehemently.

Knowing that Scott and Stiles were struggling to even get their voices to work, I spoke up evenly: "The janitor's dead."

"W-what?" Lydia stuttered.

"Yeah, somebody killed him," Stilinski nodded, glancing at me from where I stood alone and propped up against the wall.

Brown eyes wide and terrified, Allison glanced at her two neighbors, then Stiles and me, and then finally at her boyfriend.

"What's he talking about?" she inquired.

"Is this a joke?" Jackson demanded somewhat aggressively, no doubt trying to mask his fear with bellicosity.

"What… who… who killed him?" the brunette shook her head, still staring at a speechless Scott for answers.

Running her manicured hand through her strawberry blonde curls, Lydia muttered in disbelief: "No… no, no, no… this was supposed to be over… the mountain lion was killed."

"Don't you get it?" Jackson snarled, suspicious gaze darting between the clearly secretive McCall and myself. "There wasn't ever a mountain lion."

"Who was it? What does he want?" Allison asked, eyes flitting around to the two flustered boys and my oddly stoic face.

I pretty much accepted we may very well die tonight, and to be completely honest, I was okay with it.

My mom was dead.

Derek was dead.

Everyone I ever remotely cared for was gone.

Suddenly, dying didn't sound so bad…

"What's happening?" Whittemore's voice was more agitated as he, Allison, and a stunned, teary-eyed Lydia all looked around at our unresponsive faces.

"Scott!" Allison cried, brown eyes begging him to give her an answer.

"I… I don't know," he stumbled over his words as his pulse raced. "I… just… i-if we go outside… if we go out there, he's gonna kill us…"

"Us?" Allison asked while Lydia began to whimper beside her. "He's gonna kill _us_?"

"Who? Who's out there?" Jackson asked, McCall's girlfriend nodding beside him.

"Who's doing this?" her scared voice trembled.

And as his girlfriend and teammate continued to attack him with questions, I could tell Scott was struggling to think, let alone respond.

Glancing at Stiles, I knew that he, too, was having issues with coming up with a suitable cover, for Stilinski's mouth was open and moving, but no words were coming out.

"McCall!" Jackson barked.

"Who is it?" Allison pressed.

And then, the frenzied teen finally broke, however what he said was the very last thing I had expected to hear…

"It's Derek Hale."


	14. Chapter 14

**AHHHHHHHH! You guys! Over ten reviews for the last chapter, too?! I could kiss you all (in the least creepy way possible!) And, a TON of new follows/favorites! I'm, as always, so grateful and SPEECHLESS! I'm so happy you love this FF! And Charlie! :)**

**This is a decently long one, and I had a ton of fun writing it. It's a tad vivid, so sorry if some of you are squeamish... ;) MUAHAHA**

**Well! I only own my OC! Let me know what y'all think if you got the time, and READ AWAYYYY!**

**FOURTEEN: WHO WILL SAVE YOU NOW?**

"I-it's Derek," he blurted out, causing Stiles and I to literally gape at him, jaws practically dropping to the floor. "It was Derek Hale."

And as Scott's chocolate brown eyes shot over to me apologetically, I felt my chest tighten and a hot sweat move over me.

That lying little terd!

First you wrongly got him arrested, and now, even after he's dead, you're dishonoring his memory?

I wanted to lunge at him right then and there, but then I felt that familiar sensation of eyes staring at me, and low and behold, as I glanced around I saw all five of my peers intently watching my irately shaking form.

"D-Derek killed the janitor?" Allison almost whispered, her eyes still frozen on my currently stiff face. "Are you sure?"

"B-but the mountain lion…" Lydia could barely spit out, mind definitely replaying the entire ordeal she had been trying to forget from the video store.

"There is no mountain lion, Lydia!" Jackson snapped, his blue eyes watching me like a hawk as I continued to murderously glower at Scott.

"So Derek… he killed them all?" Allison was petrified, her gaze finally drifting over to her guilt-ridden boyfriend.

"Y-yeah," he nodded firmly, "Starting with his sister…"

Blood boiling, I struggled to remain calm, figuring shifting and tearing McCall apart in front of everyone would certainly make matters worse.

"T-the bus driver?" Allison inquired.

"And the guy in the video store," Scott glanced at his staring and dumbfounded best friend. "It's… it's been Derek the whole time."

Unable to take much more of this, my heart rate sky rocketed as I balled my fists and stood up, fully intending to launch myself at that fibbing son of a bitch, but the second I took a threatening step closer, Stiles took a protective one closer to his best friend, and now, standing in the way, his light brown eyes silently begged me to spare his idiotic friend's pathetic life.

"He's in here with us," Scott continued to explain, unable to look me in the face as I continued to shoot him death rays. "And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us too…"

Yeah, and if you don't shut up now, I'm going to kill _you_, you ungrateful prick!

How could he just blame it all on Derek? After all that my cousin did for him? After all _I _did for him?

I swear, if the Alpha doesn't waste his sorry ass, I will!

"Call the cops," Jackson commanded fearfully.

"No," Stiles was oddly the one to speak up, his brown eyes now defiantly focused on the lacrosse captain's stormy face.

"What… what do you mean 'no'?" Whittemore snarled, giving Stilinski a harsh look.

"I meanno… you wanna hear it in Spanish? _Noh!_" the pale boy sarcastically shot back, but as Jackson aggressively advanced at him, Stiles added: "Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don't know what he's armed with."

Oh, so now you're going along with this, too?

Typical.

Can't trust anyone these days…

"And your dad is armed with an entire sheriff's department," the blonde boy argued. "Call him."

"I-I'll call," Lydia Martin pulled out her cellphone with a trembling hand.

"Lydia, wait," Stiles pled, obviously wishing to leave his father and only parent out of this whole mess. "Just hold on a second…"

"H-hello," the queen bee stammered into the phone. "Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School and we're trapped, and we need you to… hello? H-hello?" pulling the phone away from her ear, Lydia stared at the device with a stunned face as she hopelessly breathed: "She hung up on me…"

"The police hung up on you?" Allison asked, her voice filled with dread.

"S-she s-said they got a tip warning them that… that there were gonna be prank calls about a break-in to the high school," Lydia's glassy hazel eyes were wide. "She said if I called again that they were gonna trace it and… and have me arrested…"

"Okay, then call again," Jackson crossed his arms, his blue eyes slowly drifting towards me as I paced about, eyeing Scott like he was my next dinner.

"No, they won't trace a cell," Stiles shook his head, brows furrowed in thought. "They'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here."

"Great! Just great," Whittemore cried, voice enraged and frustrated. "Another crack-up job by Beacon Hills Police Department…"

Eyes welling up, Allison's all ready fair complexion had gone ghostly white in fear as she croaked: "What the… w-what… what is this? Why does Derek want to kill us? Why is he killing _anyone_?"

"I-I don't know," Scott stammered.

"Well is he the one that sent her the text?" Jackson demanded, and I could hear the young wolf's heart rate increasing exponentially.

Good, I hoped he'd turn, blow his own cover, and then I could watch Allison hate him… watch him hate himself… and then, and only then, would I kill him… or better yet… give the Argents a mysterious tip so that Kate could torture him like she did my cousin…

"N-no," he shook his head, glancing to his speechless best friend for help, but Stiles merely pursed his lips, his own pulse racing as his light brown eyes darted around. "I-I mean… I don't know, okay?"

"Well is he the one that called the police?" even Lydia seemed to put her fear aside as she grew agitated at McCall's obvious lies and dodging of questions.

Glancing around anxiously, Scott cowered under everyone's scrutinizing gazes and snapped: "I don't know! W-why's everyone looking at me for answers, huh?"

Pausing, jaw clenched, Jackson Whittemore took a couple of steps forward, eyes fixated on my scowling face as he said darkly: "McCall's right… I mean Derek's own cousin is standing in here with us…"

Hateful gaze now focused on the handsome blonde lacrosse captain, I walked right up to him, glowering into his eyes dangerously as I hissed: "You got something to say to me, Whittemore?"

My words were deadly, face beyond stormy, and everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath as Jackson paused for a moment, having to collect himself as his heart raced fretfully.

"Y-yeah… y-yeah I do," he tried to muster up his courage as he glared back down at me.

"J-Jackson, she's stuck in here, too," Lydia pointed out, surprisingly standing up for me.

"Maybe she's working with him," he eyed me closely.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Allison piped up, though her voice was still a bit apprehensive. "She doesn't know anything… right? R-right?" her brown eyes looked at me beseechingly.

"Oh, come on! We all know she's hiding something! Don't we, Charlie?" Jackson snarled, whilst Stiles and Scott both opened their mouths to speak up on my behalf, but as always, the two cowards remained silent.

Harsh gaze steadily fixated on Jackson, my icy cold voice evenly cut through the thick air like a knife: "So let me get this straight... you think that I'm working with my cousin, the man you're so certain killed, no _tore apart_, three people... and you're plan is to call me out and _threaten_ me?"

Blinking a bit, Whittemore's brave front faltered under my lethal, yet oddly calm gaze.

"I…I…" he took an intimidated step backwards.

"Lucky for you I'm not," I lied convincingly, crossing my arms as I now glowered at the rest of my companions, who seemed to finally be able to breathe again. "Derek and I are estranged… I guess you could say he's _dead_ to me," my eyes flitted over to Scott, who immediately glanced down at his feet.

Then, refocusing on Jackson's slightly uneasy expression, I added menacingly: "But for future reference, you should really think before you speak… cause if I _was_ working with him, you'd certainly be in for a rude awakening…"

Swallowing hard, Jackson's face twitched a bit as Stiles finally found his voice.

"O-okay," he stammered, stepping between the two of us, his caramel eyes darting around to everyone still watching, my last sentence clearly making them uncertain over whether or not I could be trusted.

Good, they should be afraid of me!

"Let's, um, let's back off the throttle here," Stilinski pushed me back towards where he and Scott were standing.

Dropping his voice, he scolded his best friend: "Okay, well we can all say smooth move throwing Derek under the bus… again… nicely done…"

"Charlie… I'm sorry… I just… I didn't know what to say!" Scott blurted out his meaningless apology. "I needed to say _something_…"

"Open your mouth again and I'm ripping your jaw out of your face," I spoke seriously, voice and expression completely calm and impassive.

"O-okay, but if he's dead it really doesn't matter, does it?" Stiles tried to ease the tension, but after I shot him a dangerous look, he quickly added with a weak voice: "E-except if he's not, of course…"

"Okay, ass-heads new plan," Whittemore thankfully broke up our little pow-wow before I slugged both teenagers in the teeth. "Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?"

"He's right," Scott nodded, giving his clearly disagreeing best friend an apologetic look. "Tell him the truth if you have to… just call him."

"I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive," Stiles shook his head firmly, and although he wasn't my favorite person in the world at the moment, I had to agree… I wouldn't have wanted to bring my family into this sticky situation either…

Besides, its not like a human police officer could even make a scratch on the Alpha…

"All right, then give me the phone," Jackson suddenly lunged at Stiles, who surprising punched his teammate across the face, flooring him.

"Oh my God, Jackson!" Lydia rushed over to her hubby, who was currently sprawled out on the floor and rubbing his jaw. "Are you okay?" her hazel eyes glared up at the pale, awkward teen now shaking his stinging hand out.

"I'm fine," he muttered, getting up and rudely jerking away from his concerned girlfriend.

Then, walking over to the sour and slightly embarrassed muscular teen, Allison gently touched his arm and asked in a low, heartfelt voice: "Hey, are you okay?"

Catching a jealous Lydia eyeing them closely, and a just as envious Scott, the whole room was silent.

Something seemed to be going on between them, and as I looked at McCall's clenched jaw and balled up fist, I grinned.

Serves you right…

"Dad, hey, it's me," Stiles was now across the room, pacing anxiously as he gave in to everybody's peer pressure. "And it's your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back…"

And as everyone collectively groaned that our luck was, yet again, shitty, there was a loud banging on the door outside.

Jumping away from the vibrating pile of tables and chairs, everyone's eyes widened fearfully as animalistic snarls and scratches echoed throughout the dark room.

Clutching her boyfriend's arm, Lydia looked as if she were about to break down crying, whilst Scott protectively took Allison's hand into his own.

Mouth open and caramel eyes as wide as saucers, Stiles also joined the group of my cowering peers and muttered into the phone: "Like, call me back _right now_. We're at the school, okay?" the noises and banging was getting more and more aggressive as he repeated himself in a trembling voice: "We're at the school…"

* * *

"Oh God!" Lydia whimpered as all five of my companions shuffled back towards the opposite wall, hoping to distance themselves as far as possible from the currently rattling doors.

The noise was deafening, and I could only assume the Alpha was purposely ramming the doors to terrify everyone even more than they all ready were.

It was toying with us.

"We're gonna die," the strawberry blonde muttered, voice trembling.

"We're not gonna die," Jackson growled. "There has to be a way out of here."

Light brown eyes suddenly lighting up, Stiles excitedly exclaimed: "The kitchen! The door out of the kitchen goes directly to the stairwell!"

"Which only goes up," Whittemore shot down that idea.

"Up is better than here," Allison voiced her agreement with Stilinski's proposal.

"Jackson, how many people can you fit in your car?" Scott suddenly asked, straining his voice over the deafening and incessant bangs.

"Six, if two people squeeze on each other's laps," the blonde boy flinched as his back finally hit the far wall, eyes still fixated on the reverberating doors and barricade.

"Six?" Allison repeated, brows raised. "_I_ could barely fit in the back…"

"Doesn't matter… there's no getting out without drawing attention," Jackson frowned, his sniffling girlfriend covering her ears as the bangs grew more and more violent.

Closing my eyes, I tried to get a grip.

My emotions were all over the place, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, but with everyone's individual pounding heartbeats, nervous chatter, and the constant loud thuds from the Alpha, I thought I might explode.

"What about this?" I snapped, walking back towards the knocking doors barely keeping out the grunting and growling beast just waiting to get inside.

"Charlie, get back from there!" Lydia squeaked, but as the rest of the group squinted at where I was impatiently standing, arms crossed, they all slowly and tentatively took a few steps closer.

"Where does this lead?" I repeated myself, nodding to the locked metal door.

Raising his brows, Stiles pushed his way closer, jumping back a bit as the doors literally looked and sounded as if they were going to come flying off their hinges, but after I remained stoically unphased, he gulped and thoughtfully responded: "I, ugh, I think it goes to the roof."

"And there's a fire escape up there that leads down to the parking lot!" Allison added joyously. "It'll take us like two seconds to get down there!"

"Ugh, guys… that's a deadbolt," Jackson pointed out the grim truth that we were still pretty much locked inside of Beacon Hills High School.

"The janitor has the key," Scott mused out loud, as he stepped away from the group and stood beside his best friend who was examining the door's complicated lock.

"You mean his body has it," Stilinski corrected him with a frown.

"I can get it," Scott lowered his voice to a whisper. "I can find him by scent… by blood…"

Although I honestly wanted to tear the young wolf a new one, I had to admit that was probably our only shot.

"Well gee, that sounds like an incredibly _terrible_ idea," Stiles muttered back, optimistic as always.

"What else you got?" McCall shot shot, eyes floating back to Allison's terrified and despondent face.

I knew he was definitely feeling guilty over everything, and he certainly was not the type to just sit back while Allison was still in danger…

"I'm, um, I'm gonna go get the key," his chocolate browns eyes were focused on her now wide and opposing ones.

"A-are you serious?" she gasped incredulously and rushed over to her boyfriend, ignoring the increasingly denting doors as the Alpha continued to ram them.

"Well, Charlie's is the best plan we got," he shrugged, trying to smile but it was anything but convincing. "So someone needs to get the key if we wanna get out of here."

Oh, trying to get on my good side again, McCall?

Nice try…

Glancing at me as if she wanted me to convince Scott that his volunteering was a stupid idea, Allison's brown eyes were welling up with fearful tears.

"Y-you can't go," she whispered. "There has to be something else we can do…"

"There is nothing else," Jackson stated, though he seemed just as shocked and even upset over the idea of Scott going out there alone.

"Wait… there's stuff here he could use… you know, for protection," Lydia's hazel eyes were now determinedly focused on a case against the windows, the wheels in her head turning.

With all of our gazes following the strawberry blonde's, we all realized that the shelving unit contained a bunch of extra ingredients and chemicals from the labs.

"What are we gonna do?" Jackson raised his brows, clearly not seeing anything substantial along the wall. "Throw acid on him?"

"_No_," she haughtily responded. "We can make a fire bomb."

Raising my brows, I suddenly honed in on all of the ingredients lined up neatly on the shelves, and I had to admit, the ditsy queen bee was definitely a lot more clever than she would like to let on.

"Everything we need is in there," she continued, walking over as the banging suddenly subsided.

Pausing, we all anxiously glanced back at the dented doors before walking over to the shelf.

"Everything we need for what?" Allison inquired.

"To make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail," she responded casually, whilst everyone merely gawked at her.

"A self-igniting… Molotov… cocktail?" the strawberry blonde's astonished boyfriend repeated in awe.

"What?" she blinked at our speechless faces. "I read it somewhere…"

"Yeah, well we don't have the key for that either," Allison pointed out glumly.

Sighing, I impatiently pushed my way through everyone and grunted: "Move."

Every single pair of eyes widening, the group of my peers stepped back and shielded their faces as my elbow crashed through the glass window, sending shattered shards every which way.

And casually pulling out a thick piece of glass that was now embedded in my forearm and black blazer, I threw the bloody shard to the ground without so much as a wince and turned to Lydia: "Time to make that fire bomb."

* * *

The strawberry blonde seemed to be completely in her element as she worked away, pouring various powders and chemical liquids into a beaker, barely even needing to measure the correct amounts.

Stiles watched on in utter awe and admiration, whilst Jackson merely sourly gave his girlfriend the objects she demanded of him.

"Hand me the sulfuric acid," she muttered, brows furrowed as she swished around the solution and examined its color.

"No… no this is insane," I heard Allison's shaky and petrified voice from my aloof spot in the corner.

Holding a rag the pretty brunette had given me to put on the shallow wound on my elbow, I observed the young couple quietly arguing, their backs toward the rest of the group.

"You cannot go out there, Scott," her voice cracked as the usually unshakeable girl seemed to unravel at the thought of him risking his life.

Feeling an odd knot in my stomach, I glanced back down at the blood-soaked rag, unable to bring myself to watch the human girl breaking down in tears.

Ordinarily I quite enjoyed other peoples' pain and discomfort, but not tonight.

I had just watched my cousin die in the most brutal of ways, almost killed a man myself, and now I was stuck trying to save the lives of people who would no doubt throw me under the bus if the opportunity presented itself… two of which all ready did… well, sort of…

Not to mention how absolutely brutal this withdrawal was.

The gash wasn't healing as quickly as normal, and I could only assume it was because my body's entire immune system was trying to cope with the shock of being deprived of all anxiety and pain medications.

Hand still trembling a bit, I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and tried to close my eyes.

Just block it all out, Charlie.

Just block it all out and get through tonight.

Then you can turn it all off…

"We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles to check his messages," McCall rightly stated, trying to sound brave for his girlfriend, and though his voice was even enough, his pulse was racing.

"You could die," Allison's voice was choked by the tears she was trying to hold back. "Don't you get that? He's killed three people…"

"And we're next," Scott said in a low voice, taking her hands into his own. "Somebody has to do something."

Unable to fight the urge, I looked up and saw how sad the boy looked… how remorseful…

Good. You should feel bad, you back-stabbing asshole…

"Scott, just stop," she whispered, looking up at him as a couple of tears escaped her watery brown eyes. "Do you remember… do you remember when y-you told me you knew whether I was lying or not?" she asked, slowly breaking down. "T-that I had a tell?"

Taking in her heart-wrenching expression, my stomach knotted even more.

"Well s-so do you," she stammered, tears flowing freely. "You're a horrible liar, and you've been lying all night."

Face contorted with guilt and grief, Scott couldn't look the poor girl in the eyes as she wept pleadingly in front of him.

Glancing back around the room, I saw that Jackson, Lydia, and Stiles were all watching on as well, and although Jackson seemed mostly impassive, the other two members of the group seemed just as upset.

Scott was their friend.

He may have double-crossed my cousin and I, but to them, he was the honest and reliable dorky kid they had known for years.

They didn't know what he was.

They didn't know what was going on.

All they knew was that Scott McCall, though clearly keeping some dark secrets from them all, was willing to lay down his life on the off-chance that he could save them all.

I was pissed at him.

I was pissed at the Alpha.

But, mostly I was pissed at the world.

I had lost everything and everyone, and honestly, at this point, my grief, guilt, anger, and withdrawal symptoms all blended into one cohesive feeling: complete despondence.

"Just… just please," she hugged him hard and whispered in his ear: "Please don't go, Scott. P-please don't leave us."

He had a family still. He had friends. He had a life.

He also stood no chance against this thing…not even with Lydia's little Molotov cocktail…

He was going to die tonight… we all were…

Hell, the more I thought about it, the Alpha _had _to have planned this whole thing out.

The mysterious text to Allison, herding us all into this room, it wanted to trap us… to frighten us… to kill us…

Well, I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

No, I was gonna go down swinging, not cowering away in the goddamn teacher's lounge with a bunch of sniveling, petty teenagers.

"Please, you can't go alone…"

"He's not," I suddenly spoke up from my shadowy spot in the corner.

Eyes shooting towards my direction, I stepped out of the darkness and tossed the bloody rag to the side and walked over to where everyone silently stood.

Taking the concoction from the strawberry blonde's hand, I heard Stiles stammer: "W-what?"

Examining the firebomb, I then shoved it into Scott's hand a bit gruffly: "I mean it's my cousin out there, _right Scott_?" I gave the young wolf a bitter look: "So if anyone should go, it's me."

"Charlie," Allison gave me the same pleading look of protest, "Just cause he's your cousin doesn't mean you have to go out there… neither of you do…"

Eyes glazing over her wet face, to Lydia's own teary-eyed and sniffling form, I then caught a sort of stiff and guilty look from Jackson Whittemore.

Kid probably felt like a complete ass for calling me out now…

Well, good, I'm glad.

"She's right," Lydia's voice was low as her lip quivered.

Turning to face Stiles, who couldn't seem to wrap his head around the idea that I suddenly seemed willing to put my life on the line for his best friend, I merely stated with a determined tone of voice: "Lock it behind us."

And after a long pause, I heard Allison burst into tears and walk away, unable to watch as Scott and I slipped out into the dark and deserted hallway.

We walked along for a few moments in tense silence, listening for any sign of the Alpha and sniffing their air, hoping to catch the scent of the Janitor's blood.

All ready nauseous from both my lack of pills, as well as the general emotional upheaval I was trying to burry deep within myself, I couldn't help but gag as we made our way passed the cafeteria.

Christ, this school stank…

"Charlie," Scott's timid voice cut through the silence.

"What?" I growled, staring ahead in fear that if I even looked at him I'd forget about the Alpha and attack the young werewolf.

"I just wanna say… say thank you," I felt his chocolate brown eyes fixated on my stony face.

"For what?" I said through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to turn around and rip his quickly beating heart right out of his chest.

"F-for going with what I said… about Derek," he clarified, as if I had forgotten about the thankless wolf's disloyalty. "And for offering to come with me…"

Stopping in my tracks, I couldn't believe the gall of this kid.

"You think I'm doing this for you?" I glared at his dumb face. "You think I'm doing this to save your life?"

"Well… I… I…"

"Well I'm not," I spoke coldly, taking a step closer and looking into his eyes with the harshest of gazes. "I'm not doing this for you, or anyone else for that matter… so let's get out of here before I change my mind about getting that key and leave your sorry ass to hang…"

Turning on my heel, I walked off, my heels clacking down the hall as Scott jogged to catch up, but rather than walking beside me, he hung back a step or two, giving me my much-needed distance.

I wasn't doing this to help anyone else.

I was doing this to help me.

I was doing this because I knew that the second we found the Janitor's body, the Alpha would be right there waiting for us.

I was ready to kill that son of a bitch, and I was even more ready to die trying.

Then, I smelt that familiar irony scent of blood and death.

Abruptly stopping, Scott bumped right into me and stuttered his nervous apology, which I merely ignored and sniffed again.

"He's in here," I spoke in a low voice, opening the double-doors to the gymnasium.

The room was dark and still, besides a few beams of pale blue moonlight streaming from the windows onto the floor.

Our steps echoed against the red-padded walls, and stopping, I inhaled deeply.

"Where is he?" Scott whispered.

Ignoring the stupid, inexperienced wolf, I headed towards the set of bleachers farthest from where we were standing, and as I slowly walked around them, I peered into the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

"He's under here," I mumbled, pointing a slightly shaking hand to the barely visible body strung up and crammed between the support beams of the underside of the wooden bleachers.

"You sure? I-I don't see him," he squinted, but after noticing the extremely icy look I was giving him, McCall cleared his throat and stated: "I'll just go get the keys."

Crossing my arms, I watched the teenager maneuver his way under and over the various metal beams and cross sections, hitting his face a couple times in the process.

In too bad of a mood to even get amusement out of that, I tapped my foot impatiently.

After a few minutes of silence from the young werewolf, however, I took a few steps in and slowly made my way deeper underneath the towering wooden seats.

"What's taking so long?" I hissed rudely, seeing him fumbling about around the Janitor's corpse.

"I… I can't reach the key," he grunted, and I could hear his heart beat unevenly thumping against his chest.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes and decided that I should just take care of it, but the moment I lifted my foot, the bleachers began to shake.

Looking up, I heard Scott yelp as the seats began to retract by some unknown force pushing them back up against the wall.

"Do you have them?" I called over, eyes darting about to the quickly closing exit.

"Almost," he groaned, stretching his body as far as it could go, and as I heard the familiar jingle of the keys, I knew that unless the teenager grabbed them right away, he would get crushed.

"Scott!" I barked as I darted over, stumbling a bit over the beams. "Come on!"

"I…almost… GOT THEM!" he cried triumphantly, but his grin soon faded as I roughly grabbed him and dragged him towards the exit, not caring whether or not he was slamming against the crossbeams rather hard.

And just as the hole was getting too small, I pushed the wincing kid through before diving onto the hard wooden floor myself.

Panting, I realized that the cut in my elbow must have gotten snagged on something else in the process of trying to escape the bleachers, for my entire arm was now burning.

"Dammit," I hissed angrily, and as I looked up to scold the senseless boy for almost getting us both killed, I saw him looking up at the massive black Alpha currently staring down at us from his position on top of the bleachers.

It's snarling, foaming mouth opened up as if it were mocking the two of us, and although Scott's heart seemed to have stopped, mine was beating rapidly.

Menacing red eyes taking in our puny forms, I had a feeling it was waiting to see how we'd react.

Would these two little werewolves try to run, or would we fight?

Glancing from the doors and back towards the Alpha, I saw Scott calculating his chances, but then the teenager did something I wasn't quite expecting.

"Come on!" he growled, eyes flashing yellow. "Come on and get us!"

And while my stunned mind tried to process that Scott McCall was willing to stand by my side and die fighting this thing, the colossal monster leapt down, knocking the boy directly into the center of the basketball court.

I didn't think.

I only reacted.

Sprinting over, I jumped onto the Alpha's furry and stinking back, my claws digging into its flesh, hoping to keep its gigantic jaws off of McCall's neck.

Letting out a beastly roar of pain, it started trying to shake me off as Scott attempted to yank himself out from under its iron grip.

Tossing me onto the ground, I hit the wooden floor hard, but as I saw the Alpha turn its murderous gaze back onto the struggling Scott still pinned down, I bellowed: "LOOK AT ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Charging it, vision now in black and white, I launched my next assault, and just as my claws were about to sink into it's neck, the beast's own razor sharp paw crashed down against my torso, cutting into my flesh and sending me across the room.

Crashing down into the gymnastics supplies in the corner of the room, I felt my body go slightly numb.

Groggy from the intense hit, I rolled over and looked to where the Alpha was still crouching on top of Scott.

My vision was blurry from the blood dripping into my eyes from the searing gash on my eyebrow, and as I tried to push my body up, I let out a loud hiss of pain from the laceration to my side from the Alpha's claw-marks.

"Scott," I managed to pick myself halfway up, but before I could fully stand the Alpha let out a loud, glass-shattering howl that reverberated so deeply that it seemed to penetrate into my very bones.

Collapsing back to the ground in fetal position, I covered my ears, which felt like they were bleeding, and as the last echoing remnants of the creature's horrific call bounced off the walls, my entire body went numb.

I laid there for a moment, unsure of where I was or what I was doing.

I was confused.

I couldn't feel my own body, let alone my smarting wounds.

Then, dazed and confused as I stared up at the ceiling, a violent shudder traveled throughout my body.

Twitching uncontrollably, my brief moment of peace was brutally ruined by the most intense pain I had ever felt.

Agony tearing through my entire body, I felt like every cell in my body had caught fire, igniting the blood in my veins and making every breath feel like my lungs were slowly collapsing.

I couldn't scream.

I could barely breathe.

And then, as the convulsions grew worse, I finally managed to gasp for air, only to emit a high-pitched, gurgled yell, shaking the entire gym.

My shouts bounced off the walls, and I soon heard Scott bellow out in pain, as well… and in the distance, I could have sworn I heard Jackson Whittemore's painful yelps.

What the Hell was going on?

Flipping over with great difficulty, my heart was racing as my vision went black and white.

Horrified, I watched my nails elongate to sharp claws, and then I knew what was happening.

"No," I grunted, turning to look at Scott, who was also writhing about in pain.

"Scott," I struggled to call out, but the screaming teenager only answered with a beastlike roar.

The Alpha was making us turn.

It never wanted to kill us.

It never wanted to kill our friends.

It wanted Scott and I to do it for him.

No… no…

Opening my mouth to call out again, I could only yelp out in agony as my all ready blurry vision become worse from the painful tears welling up in my eyes.

My body lurched, forcing itself into the most contorted and unnatural position, and as I shrieked, my own animalistic howl bubbling up from my chest, I turned just in time to see a fully shifted Scott rush out of the room.

"NO!" I screamed after him. "SCOTT!"

Body twisting and shifting despite my best efforts to regain control over myself, I then felt my backbone snap with a sickening crack.

Blood curtailing scream erupting from my fanged mouth, I knew I needed to resist the Alpha's howl.

I could not turn… not matter how much my body wanted me to.

I wouldn't do it…

I needed to be strong.

I needed to make Derek proud, even if it was too late…

And as I felt my muscles and tendons tears themselves off of my cracking bones, every joint burst out of their sockets with a disgusting popping sound.

Digging my claws deep into the wooden floor, bloody face pressed into the floor and eyes clamped shut, I let out another excruciating screech.

I would not be weak.

Not this time.

Tears streaming down my face, I rolled about, writhing in pain as every little bone in my body broke, trying to put itself back together again in wolf from.

Jerking to and fro, I kept this from happening… kept myself from shifting, and as I did so, every sharp bone fragment jabbed into my searing skin.

No!

NO!

I felt myself involuntarily contort into the most unnatural of shapes as my strangled shouts switched between doglike howls and the cries of a dying woman.

I thrashed about, determined not to shift, but the pain…

It was unbearable…

Every fiber of my being, every cell, every atom begged me to give in.

And as the sound of my muscles tearing and bones snapping echoed in my ears, I felt myself finally giving in as I hopelessly wailed in torment.

"Charlie!" the faint noise of someone calling my name sounded from the distance. "Charlie!"

Rushed footsteps quickly approaching where I was thrashing about, rolling around and weeping on the bloody ground, I felt someone dive down next to me.

Unfocused eyes meeting a familiar pair of horrified caramel ones, I knew who was gazing down, helplessly watching my mangled body seizing as my bones and joints continued to jut out of my skin, breaking and moving about on their own.

Shaking hand gently reaching out to touch me, I let out another bone chilling scream, making Stilinski retract his hand as he powerlessly watched on.

"W-what… what can I do?" he asked, voice frantic, face paler than usual, the sight of me no doubt making him faint. "What's happening to you?"

In between gasps for air, I choked on my tears: "I won't… I won't shift… I… I can't…"

"Charlie, just give in," he watched me violently twitch some more, the sound of my crunching body parts meshing with my hollers of pain. "You're killing yourself!"

Feeling his hands trying to keep me from bashing my seizing head against the hard wood floor, I somehow managed to shove Stiles away, in fear that I'd scratch him… or worse…

Then I managed to get out through my gurgled yelps: "I can't shift… I shift… I… I shift, I k-kill… I can't… I-I can't go through that…"

Not again…

And as the petrified teen watched me struggling and failing to regain control over my own convulsing and broken body, I heard his uneven breathing and panicked heartbeat.

"O-okay, okay," he blurted out, clearly thinking as hard as he could on finding a way to help me. "You can get through this…"

And while he thought out loud, I let out another blood curtailing wail as my body jerked about some more.

"Make it stop!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, eyes clenched shut tightly.

Voice frantic as his eyes took in the pitiful sight, Stilinski almost begged: "Charlie, you need to relax… focus on what calms you down."

Rolling about some more, I couldn't think of anything besides the pain.

I wanted to die right there, as every inch of me burned and ached.

"Your anchor!" he cried, brows raised as his flushed face lit up with the false hope that I had some semblance of self-control. "What's your anchor?"

Knowing I had no pills left, I felt even more hopeless than before as I continued to jerk about

Neck letting out a stomach-turning crack, the squeamish boy gagged: "Oh God…"

Hysterical, I let out a strangled cry of pain and defeat: "I… I can't…"

Suddenly, grabbed my flailing and distorted body, Stiles cupped my head and forced me to look into his oddly steady caramel eyes: "Yes, yes you can! Don't give up! Find your humanity, Charlie!"

Claws balled up in a fist, I felt the nails pierce my skin as I shut my eyes tightly, desperately giving it one more shot to block out the excruciating pain.

Weeping, his surprisingly strong arms kept my fitful form from slamming itself against the wooden floor.

Spine cracking some more and arms suddenly contorting themselves, I croaked: "Stiles… I can't!"

I felt myself slowly giving in… slowly shifting.

My bones broke, realigning themselves so that my arms and legs were slowly morphing to the shape of my shifted wolf form.

An animalistic howl rose from my chest as my head burned: "Run… get out of here…"

I felt his body tense up and heart rate increase, but still, Stiles didn't move.

Black and white vision still hazy, I glanced up at his petrified face, his eyes wide and mouth slightly opened.

"RUN!" I bellowed, trying to hold off transitioning long enough for the dorky kid to make his escape.

"Your necklace," he muttered suddenly. "Your necklace! You always wear it. You play with it when you're nervous… what does it mean?"

Literally unable to hold back anymore, I let out an inhuman howl as my consciousness began to slowly give way to the beast fighting to come out.

"Charlie!" Stilinski yelled, not giving up. "Think about the necklace! It means something to you…"

Still in agonizing pain, I felt my body freeze a bit.

Sensing he was getting somewhere, Stiles breathlessly asked: "W-who gave it to you?"

"M-my mom," I breathed through the extreme pain.

"Okay, your mom," he spoke a mile a minute. "Just, um, just think about her… think about your mom."

Forcing myself to recall her warm smile and floral perfume, I felt my heart starting to slow down as my bones and joints eased their way back into their natural alignment.

Gazing at me still twitching uncontrollably, Stiles must have been able to see a visible difference being made, so he continued enthusiastically: "Okay, good! Keep focusing on that! Keep thinking about her."

His words echoed in my throbbing brain as I remembered how she used to squeeze my hand three times to tell me that she loved me, or how my mother would stroke my hair if I was scared or sad… and for a split-second, I could have sworn the arms tightly clutching me were hers.

Then, I felt my body go limp.

I was shivering intensely, for every inch of me was now covered in a cold, sickly sweat, and as my tearful eyes fluttered open, they landed on Stiles' light brown ones.

Staring down at my pathetically frail form trembling in his arms, he gazed down at me with a look of both relief and sorrow.

Physically and emotionally spent, my eyes then drifted past his face, and as I stared blankly at the ceiling, I felt the last remaining tears streak down my cheeks.

* * *

The Alpha was gone, and as Stiles helped my sore and exhausted body drag itself out of the gymnasium and down the completely destroyed hallway, we didn't speak.

Fighting back tired and woeful tears, all I could think about was Derek's face after the beast had impaled him, as I sniffled, I felt Stilinski's hand around my waist tighten a bit, as if silently trying to comfort me.

I was glad the usually chatty teenager decided to remain silent.

My throat ached from screaming and my entire side still smarted from the scrape that the Alpha had so gracious given me.

Vision blurry, I winced with every difficult step, but then my droopy eyes landed on the familiar flashing of blue and red lights from the front of the building.

"T-the cops are here?" I rasped, voice so hoarse that it almost sounded alien.

"Yeah, they must have just gotten here," he muttered, eyes anxiously looking around for any sign of his dad.

Swallowing hard, my parched throat felt like sandpaper: "W-where's Scott? Is everyone…"

"Everyone's fine," he responded, helping me through the door that led out to the side of the school, but the second we stepped into the cool evening air, my sensitive eyes were met with harsh beams of light shining in our faces.

"STILES!" Sheriff Stilinski ran forward, pushing through the crowd of squad cars and officers ready to fire at any sign of danger.

"Hey, dad," Stiles smiled weakly.

I could tell all the boy wanted to do was hug his father, but feeling I was still to frail to walk on my own, he refrained from doing so.

"Everyone said you were still in there, and I thought…" the officer of the law's words dropped off, the panic he felt clearly having shaken him quite a bit.

"I'm fine," Stiles nodded sincerely, as his dad's light eyes drifted to my pathetic form, head drooping a bit.

"Can we get a Medic over here?" Sheriff Stilinski called over his shoulder, eyes still darting between his unharmed son and my completely battered body. "Medic!"

"I-I'm fine, Sheriff," I croaked, trying to force a smile, but to be honest, even performing my best acting would not have convinced anyone that I was okay.

"Oh my God! Charlie!" Allison sprinted over, despite a deputy yelling after her about having more questions.

"Oh my God! I-I thought," she could barely get out, joyful tears escaping her eyes as she took in my horrendous blood-soaked body.

Taking a step back, Stiles gave me one last, long look before heading over to where Scott was now sitting, head buried in his hands.

"We… we heard you screaming, and… and… we ran to look for you and then Scott found us," Allison was trembling as she squeezed me tightly while I merely stared blankly ahead, too tired to respond. "But you weren't with him… w-we thought you were dead… but then you started yelling again… a-and Stiles just took off… and… and…"

Clutching me ever tighter, I let out a hiss of pain, making the crying young woman pull back and apologize with a small, dimpled smile: "Sorry… I'm just so happy you're okay…"

"And Scott," I tried to get out, but her smile soon faded.

"He's fine," her brown eyes floated down to look at her shoes as she cut me off. "Didn't even have a scratch on him," I could hear how conflicted she felt over that fact.

The girl was obviously thankful that her boyfriend was safe and sound, but no doubt seeing him come out of this perfectly okay whilst I looked like a victim from a horror movie, well I would've been suspicious too if I were her…

Choosing not to reply, I stared over at the cracked wall where my older cousin's body was now gone.

Did the Alpha take Derek's corpse?

Or had the cops found him?

"Charlie?" Allison's eyes were still fixated on my slightly trembling body. "Did… did Scott leave you?"

Glancing over to her extremely troubled face, I knew she was basically asking me if he was the type of person who would have just left me there to die… if he was someone she shouldn't trust…

Eyes looking over to where Stiles and Scott were talking quietly amongst themselves, I could faintly hear the young wolf's shaky voice saying that Allison may or may not have just broken up with him.

"She says she can't trust me," he tried to hold back frustrated tears while his best friend sadly listened. "I've been trying so hard to protect her, and now… now she wants nothing to do with me…"

"It was kind of a stressful night. Maybe she just needs some space right now," Stiles offered, though I could tell, based on his heartbeat, that he was lying.

"Charlie?" she snapped me back to the conversation at hand.

Pausing, I knew I should have wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to get revenge on McCall, but as the medic finally came over and ushered me to the ambulance, I looked into her deep brown eyes and told her what she needed to hear: "No… no he didn't."

Nodding a bit, she seemed a little more at ease, and as I made my way towards the ambulance to get stitched up, I saw her glance over at her ex-boyfriend with a very conflicted and heartbroken look.

* * *

By the time the EMTs had gotten to me, most of my lacerations were mere flesh wounds that could have easily be bandaged or stitched up, and although it took a ton of convincing, I managed to get Sheriff Stilinski to let me go home.

There was still one issue, however: I didn't technically have a home.

Obviously not wishing to let slip that I was related to the man who the entire county was searching for, I couldn't go back to Hale house in the woods, thus, I merely gave Stiles' dad the fake address I had on my school paperwork.

So after finally being dropped off to my supposed home a town over, it took me a good three hours to lug my sore and exhausted body back to the charred remains of my house, and once I finally arrived and dragged myself up the overgrown driveway and up the porch steps, I paused by the front door, unable to get myself to step inside.

The entire place felt like a tomb to begin with, housing the ashes of ten of my family members, and now it served as a depressing memorial to my late cousin Derek, and our search for retribution.

The hunters had won.

The Alpha had won.

And my family, my older cousin… me… we had lost… we had lost everything…

Mustering up the courage to step into the decrepit home, I pushed the creaky door open climbed the steps to my bedroom, eyes unblinking and mind blank.

I couldn't feel much of anything.

I mean, I knew my body physically ached, but it seemed like some odd and distant sensation.

Zombie-like, I shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the water, not even bothering to peel of my crusty and bloodstained clothes as I stepped under the icy water.

It burned as it hit my raw skin, but I didn't care.

Letting the cold water cascade down my body, I stared down at the swirls of blood filling the grimy tub and circling the drain in a spiraling pattern.

Spiraling pattern.

A spiral.

My family's spiral.

Laura's spiral.

Derek's spiral.

I gasped.

Turning off the water, I unknowingly ripped the faucet off the piping as the sounds of everyone I loved burning to death flooded my ears.

I stumbled out of the tub, hyperventilating as all of their charred faces, faces filled with pain and anguish, morphed into Derek's mangled body.

I couldn't breath as a wave of nausea swept over me.

The dank bathroom was spinning as I blindly tripped my way to the sink, emptying my stomach's contents until nothing came out but bile.

I dry-heaved.

I dry-heaved again.

Tears streaming down my face, I looked up at the cracked and filthy mirror.

Raven black hair clinging to my battered face, my pale gray eyes were blood-shot and puffy, with massive black bags underneath them. My cracked and dry lips quivered as my body trembled.

I looked like a shell of my former self.

Face gaunt, eyes lifeless, and blood still caked on my soaked clothing, I stood there staring at this shadow of a girl peering back at me.

Unable to breathe, I swayed as my knees buckled, and as I let out a loud, despairing cry, I took the metal faucet knob and slammed it into the mirror, shattering it.

Hand bleeding, I collapsed to the ground as I hysterically wept.

"What am I supposed to do?" I cried to myself, back pressed against the sink's cabinet. "What am I supposed to do?"

I was alone.

I had no one.

Banging my head against the hard wood, I felt my heart literally breaking to pieces as my shock wore off and the harsh reality set in.

Mom was gone.

Aunt Talia was gone.

Cora was gone.

Laura was gone.

Derek was gone.

Everyone was gone.

"IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!" I wailed miserably, voice rattling throughout the entire burnt and broken house. "IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!"

Suddenly crawling across the bathroom, trailing blood from my cut up hand as I went, I blindly felt around for my white bag, going from weeping in misery to screaming in pure rage.

Ripping it open, I tossed my belongings everywhere as I dizzily searched for it.

"Where is it?" I breathed frantically, voice shaking. "WHERE IS IT?"  
And after almost tearing the entire thing apart, I found what I was

looking for.

Coughing on my tears, I pulled out the syringe and handful of horse tranquilizer bottles that I had secretly swiped from the animal clinic.

I wanted this to stop.

I wanted the pain to go away.

I didn't want to feel.

I wanted to turn it off.

Shaking hand opening up the bottle, I stuck the needle in, drawing the intense drug out.

Gagging, I swallowed my next round of anxiety and grief induced vomit as I continued to choke on my tears.

"Come on," my lip quivered as I sat on the floor, trembling as I began slapping the vein in my arm. "Come on…"

Letting the syringe pierce my skin, I struggled to keep my hot tears back as I pushed down, feeling the burning drug get sent directly into my blood stream.

It hit me almost immediately, and as the intense tranquilizer spread throughout my body, I felt ill and disoriented.

Slowly slumping down on the tile floor, my breathing started to steady, and as I curled up, hugging myself in fetal position, I silently wept until I fell passed out.


	15. Chapter 15

**AHHHHH! Holy mother! I can't even with these responses! Holy crappp! LOVING THE FEEDBACK!  
**

**Special thanks to: **

**High Serpent King, msspicyjalapeno, EmeraldGrey22, xxxanniexx, StrollThroughTheGardenOfEvil, StarLighter16, 99Tina99, Emma, klandgraf2007, XXxbellxXXxx, HolHol, and guests**

**You guys are making me sooo excited to keep this going! Thank you all for the avid support and kind words!**

**Also, I'm thinking of making an 8tracks of all the songs I've used as chapter titles! Or maybe, I'll just add links to each chapter and describe why it fits at the bottom of each chapter! Let me know what you guys think!**

**** disclaimer: this is mostly deviant from the episode Lunatic until the end because I wanted to show what she's been going through after Derek, and I had to alter some of the timelines so this spans about a week and the conversations/events are shuffled around some!**

**Only own my OC, and here's the next chapter. Hope y'all enjoy it! Left it on a bit of a cliff-hanger, soooo sorry ;)**

**kayyyy ready away and enjoy! (also follow,favorite,and comment if you want)!**

**FIFTEEN: FRESH BLOOD**

Nothing mattered anymore.

Time was of no importance.

Days and nights seemed to blur into one massive twilight haze, where I sat on my filthy bedroom floor, staring down at the notebook now filled with nonsensical rambles of a girl high on horse tranquilizers and drunk from her dead older cousin's stash of alcohol.

Rather than the plans I once had strategically mapped out, none of the words and images made any coherent sense.

Spirals of all sizes marked the pages, along with old blood and dirt smudges from the hands I hadn't cleaned in God knows when.

Based on how much I smelt, I could probably assume I hadn't left my home in over three days, but I didn't care.

I couldn't have moved even if my life depended on it.

I hadn't eaten or slept, hadn't showered, changed, and I honestly hadn't even checked my phone which seemed to be constantly vibrating in my still blood-soaked blazer in the bathroom.

Swaying as I took another swig from the bottle of bourbon, I continued scribbling those dark circular swirls on the page, but once I realized that nothing was coming out of the bottle, I held it away from my bleary eyes so that I could examine it.

It was empty.

Wonderful.

Time to open another one.

Tossing it behind me, without a care in the world as it shattered against the wall and landed amongst the all ready sickening amount of spent glasses and bottles, I hoisted myself up and lazily stumbled over to the desk.

Squinting, I checked every remaining bottle.

Nope, not that one…

That one's empty too.

And that one…

Heart rate increasing, I felt a sudden wave of anxiety.

I couldn't be out all ready!

Could I?

Frantically double-checking every bottle, it then finally dawned on me that I had, indeed drained every single ounce of alcohol I had in the house.

Growling with rage, I knocked all of the empty bottles onto the ground, flinching as the loud crashing sounds grated against my sensitive ears.

Crunching my way over the mounds of broken glass littering the now sticky bedroom floor, I bumped into the rickety walls as I moved towards the bathroom.

Picking up the last bottle of the four I had of horse tranquilizer, I frowned.

God, I hated my werewolf tolerance!

My body could literally metabolize anything!

Sourly trying to focus my blurry eyes on the tiny opening of the bottle, it took me several attempts to get the syringe in to draw up some more of the drugs.

Then, glancing down, I contemplated which severely bruised arm would hurt less.

"Screw it," I slurred to myself, slapping my arm as I hissed in pain.

All ready swollen and a sickly purplish-green hue, my scabbed vein popped out as I stabbed myself with the needle.

The rush hadn't been as good as the first, as was the case for any substance one abused, but still, I grew frustrated.

I knew I had to get more… more of what, I didn't care… I just wanted to keep myself from feeling anything besides this comforting drug-induced haze.

Slowly looking up, I finally laid eyes on my horrendous face.

My hair was a greasy and knotted mess, clinging to my thinned-out skull only to get frizzy and crazy on the ends, with little flecks of dirt and ash dusting it from rolling about the floor for days on end.

What little remaining make-up I had was still streaked down my pallid and sunken face, no doubt from crying and the poor shower I attempted to take, but what really stuck out was how my usually pale and oddly luminous gray eyes were now soulless and dull, like the eyes one would find on a lifeless corpse.

My lips were cracked and eyes red from dehydration, and my clothes, now that rusted brownish-red tint from the dried blood was marred with thick layers of dirt and dust.

If I wanted to get more alcohol and drugs, well this simply wouldn't do.

Mind moving at a snail's pace, my body followed its lead, and by the time I managed to drag my sore body into the shower, clean myself, and put on fresh clothes, the bright sun had gone down giving way to night.

My mind was blank as I drunkenly trudged about the woods, unsure of what I was really looking for, and I was about a half hour out from my property when I heard the snap of a few branches behind me.

Honestly not caring who it was, I slowly turned, half expecting to get a hunter's arrow to the heart or the Alpha's massive jaws chomping down around my neck.

Brow cocking up, a small smirk tugged on the corner of my lips as I took in the pleasant surprise standing before me.

There, two somewhat burley men, the shorter one pale with a scruffy beard and blonde hair, and the larger, an African American man in a hat; both of which appeared about thirty.

"Well, well, well," the blonde man grinned wickedly, nudging his companion. "What do we have here?"

"Are you lost little girl?" his friend cooed as they walked closer to my completely calm form.

Watching them advance, I crossed my arms as I observed the larger man take a large gulp from a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Jackpot…

"Actually," I responded with a sultry tone as they circled me, eyes scanning my formfitting dark skinny jeans and low-cut black V-neck sweater. "I think I found what I was looking for."

"Oh, really? And what's that?" the blonde man grabbed the bottle from his friend and took another sip.

Breeze picking up, my freshly cleaned and soft, wavy hair blew in my face, making me tuck a piece behind my ear as I batted my long eyelashes at them: "Well, I was going to go to the liquor store, but it looks like the party's here…"

Glancing at one another, I could hear their heart rates increasing, no doubt devious thoughts floating across their brains.

Little did they know I had my own wicked ideas…

"Hold old are you?" the man in the baseball cap asked, his brown eyes suspicious.

Playing with my necklace, I walked up to him and stared up into his eyes with a crooked grin: "Old enough."

Then, as he stared down at me a bit stunned, I reached for the bottle.

"Nuh-uh," he yanked it back, over his head and passed it over to his friend. "Two kids graciously gave us their bottle, and they probably wouldn't appreciate us just handing it out…"

White guy sniggering, I knew that they had probably swiped the bottle off some poor little teens trying to get wasted in the woods, and my hunch was proven correct when the blonde companion snorted: "Yeah… _gave…"_

Chuckling, the African American man nodded before turning to look back down at my now unhappy face.

"So you can't have any," he stated getting more serious. "Besides, cops have been crawling this place and I can't get break my probation."

"Yeah, so why don't you go back home to your mommy," the blonde man jeered as they brushed past me a bit roughly.

Waves of anger bubbling up inside of me, I greedily watched the whiskey swashing in the bottle as they went.

I wanted it.

No, I needed it.

And _no one_ simply brushed _me_ off…

"What if I make it worth your while," I called after them coolly.

Stopping in their tracks, the two delinquents glanced at one another, as the shorter of the two eyed me sinfully.

"Oh yeah, and how's that?" he inquired as they both started walking closer, like two predators approaching their desired prey.

"I'll pay you," I offered, knowing very well that that wasn't what those two men were after from a young girl wondering around the forest alone at night.

Scoffing, the bigger man stared menacingly as his friend walked behind me, trapping me between their towering forms, but I wasn't intimidated.

"We don't want your money," he said darkly and adjusted his hat, as I stood there, expression stoic and unreadable.

"But you can still make it worth our while," the blonde man hissed in my ears, as his buddy pulled out a pocket knife, it's blade gleaming in the dim moonlight.

Smirking, I merely glanced at it and chuckled.

Clearly not expecting that response, the two men exchanged uncertain looks as the black man in the cap barked: "I don't think you should be laughing…"

Stopping immediately, I cleared my throat and nodded: "No, no, you're right," and face suddenly becoming quite stormy, I added threateningly: "But how about I give you a little counter-offer…"

Now it was the two men's turn to guffaw, and as I patiently allowed them to finish laughing, the blonde man suddenly grabbed me, pinning my hands behind me back before mocking: "Honey, you got nothing to offer us that we can't just take."

Eerie and high-pitched giggles erupted from my throat, and I heard each man's pulse quicken with anxiety.

"I'm going to ask this once… just give me the bottle and leave, okay?"

Thoroughly creeped out by how impassive, and even amused I appeared, both men tried to seem calm, but I could tell they were actually quite on edge.

"O-oh yeah? Or what?" the large man in the baseball cap laughed nervously.

"Yeah, what will you do? Scream?" the blonde man tightened his grip even more, twisting my bruised arms.

Contorted and crazed grin spreading across my face, I allowed my pulse to race as the drugs and alcohol were in full swing, gaze hungrily focused on the larger man's jugular vein.

"Oh no, you two will be the ones screaming," my voice dropped as I felt claws grow out of nail-beds and fangs descend from my canines: "Well, until I rip your lungs out of your throats, at least…"

And as my hazy black and white vision took in the African American man's petrified expression, I blacked out.

* * *

I was freezing.

My body ached.

My head throbbed.

I felt nauseous.

Slowly opening my eyes, the sunlight blinded my retinas.

Shivering, I allowed my oddly clear vision to adjust.

I must have finally passed out from the drugs and alcohol… only took five friggin days…

But now, completely sober, I felt like utter crap… like I had been hit by a freight train to put it lightly…

Rolling over, stared up at the ceiling, but rather than seeing the cracked, charred, and dilapidated one from my bedroom, I saw nothing but a shadowy dark abyss.

Brows furrowed, my eyes drifted from the ceiling to the damp and moss-covered walls of our old cellar.

What the Hell?

Shivering, I slowly sat up, rolling my stiff neck and trying to get my bearings.

Then, I looked down and turned bright pink.

Even though no one was around to see, I felt my face grow hot the moment I realized that I was completely naked, with nothing covering me but goose bumps, mud, and blood.

Wait, _what?_

Blood?

_Blood!_

Where did the blood come from?

Heart almost bursting out of my chest, I looked around frantically, with clues in sight.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Why was I covered in blood?

And how did I end up in our cellar?

Shaking, I got up and went to rub my eyes, only to find my hands bloodstained as well, with a sickly, fleshy substance embedded underneath my nails.

Oh my God…

Room spinning, I bolted up the stone steps, tripping as I went.

Oh my God…

What happened?

Did I shift?

Did I hurt someone?

Did I _kill_ someone?

Bursting through the cellar doors, I immediately winced and covered

my bloodshot and stinging eyes from the burning sunrise.

The air was chilly, the morning dew dampening my bare feet as I sprinted into my burnt home.

Not even bothering to shut the door behind me, my mind was racing as my heart pounded against my aching chest.

What happened?

What did I do?

Rushing up the steps, I fell but quickly got back up and practically flew into the bathroom to get a good look at myself.

Mouth and neck practically painted dark brown, dried blood also covered my chest and hands, with parts of it even crusting some of the hairs framing my face.

My face immediately turned green at the sight of myself.

I would've thrown up had I eaten, but with a stomach empty for almost a week, I only managed to dry-heave profusely for a few minutes.

Trembling, I blinked back panicked and confused tears.

What the Hell happened?

What happened?

Amidst my panic attack, I then heard my phone buzzing.

My phone!

Diving onto the floor, I yanked it out of my destroyed blazer and clicked the button, illuminating the screen, which read: _25 Messages_

Heart literally stopping, my stomach knotted as I grappled with my gag reflex yet again.

Swallowing, I felt a massive lump in my throat.

Relax, Charlie…

It's probably nothing…

You're over reacting…

And although I was mentally telling myself not to fret, my body was literally eating itself up.

Taking a deep, wavering breath, I then selected 'open all'.

_FRIDAY (5):_

_Allison:_

_i just want to make sure ur OK. if u want to talk im here, and i talked to my dad… he said u can stay with us since ur familys out of town. lemme know. _

_Stiles:_

_hey its me. i got your number from scott. sorry my dad had to drop you off so far from your place. just want to make sure u got home okay. _

_Stiles:_

_that last message was me by the way. and by me i mean stiles. okay, well hope your okay. we really need to talk when you get this, so text me back at this number. _

_Scott:_

_idk what to say. i kno you probably hate me right now, but charlie i rly am sorry. i freaked out and messed everything up. i kno that now. stiles told me what happened to you so if you want to talk to anyone im here. just please answer me, but if you don't, i understand. txt me back._

_Stiles:_

_me again. just thought you should know the vets alive, so im pretty sure hes the alpha. scott doesn't think so, but hes the only one that makes sense. also, theres no sign of derek yet, but im listening to all my dads calls until i hear something. its stiles obviously. ok. _

_SATURDAY (4):_

_Scott:_

_kk so i get you don't wanna talk to me. that's fine. i just need to let u know that u were right. Allison was my anchor and now that we broke up idk what to do about the full moon this week. Ik I don't deserve ur help, but I need to ask anyway. i cant do this alone. _

_Allison:_

_hey, u never answered last night. U OK? Lydia wants to go to the mall, but im still too upset from last night. mb I can swing by ur place and we can just watch a movie? Let me know if ur up to it._

_Lydia:_

_hey girlie! Allison and I are going 2 the mall and ur coming! scallison broke up so I figured we could all rly use retail therapy. Answer this when u wake up xoxo_

_Stiles:_

_ugh, just wanna know if u got the past messages. let me know if you did. Stiles._

_SUNDAY (2):_

_Lydia:_

_BETCH! ANSWER UR PHONE! u missed the sale at urban! We NEED 2 talk! So stop being all gloomy and antisocial and call me xo_

_Stiles:_

_just double-checked that this is your number, but im sure your still sleeping. im sorry about derek, by the way. still haven't heard anything about him, but my dads looking. also im sure he txtd you, but scotts really sorry and we could really use your help_

_MONDAY (5):_

_Allison:_

_charlie ur worrying me. Lydia said she texted u and u didn't answer her either? Plse call me back. Ik u weren't working with derek… we all feel bad for even thinking that, so plse if u need to talk to someone, were here. u dnt need to go thru this alone… ill talk to u at school today._

_Stiles:_

_Its stiles. AGAIN. Okay, in case you want to know or care, your starting to scare us… Right, text me back. Or ill just see you at school… yeah ill see you at school… _

_Lydia:_

_so allison said I was being insensitive. I guess cause Jackson and I r fighting that I wasn't thinking about ur problems, so im sorry about ur cousin. It sux and im glad ur okay after the other night. call me back! Xoox_

_Danny:_

_Yo, just a heads up greenbergs been asking the whole school for ur number. Lucky u, he wants to take u to formal LOL JK srsly tho, if ur gonna turn him down, let me know where/when so I can watch_

_Scott:_

_stiles is freaking out. if u don't want to answer me, at least answer him… sorry again... about everything… _

_TUESDAY (7):_

_Stiles:_

_CHARLIE! u skipped school twice and scott is really freaking me out! this whole full moon mood-swing thing is not being helped by allison dumping him. We could really use your help with controlling this stuff. Im taking him out drinking tonight in the woods if you want to come. So… TXT US BACK_

_Allison:_

_u missed school and u probably just want a break from everything and I understand completely. Ik the feeling. Just plse call me back… I overheard my dad and aunt talking and I think they kno something about ur cousin. Plse answer. Were all so worried about u_

_Danny:_

_Hey badass. So while ur off being cool and skipping school, I gotta cover ur ass and handle harris' impossible lab assignments alone. U better be doing something epic, or u owe me big time. Also, Greenberg wont drop the whole number thing, so let me know if u want me to let him down…_

_Stiles:_

_OKOY YOU RELLY NEED TO ANSWER! _

_Stiles:_

_sory, stupid cap locks… im really not that worried about the lack of commmunication… even if it ruuude _

_Stiles:_

_unless the argents or alpha gott you. aree u even alive? Answar if your alibe… _

_Stiles:_

_okay, I reallly hope your alive. Scott almost killed these two dickks that stole our jack. Could reallllllllly use your help so just do me a favor an don't be dead. Stiles._

_WEDNESDAY (3):_

_Scott:_

_this is the last message, I swear. I almost lost control last night. I feel so out of it… I think I might kill someone. I wouldn't be coming to u unless I rly needed ur help. If u don't show up to school again im coming to ur house. _

_Lydia:_

_OK! WHERE R U? Uve been ignoring all our calls and freaking us all out! and Jacksons been ignoring me 2! So now whos bein insensitive?! Answer me! xoo_

_Stiles:_

_so im sure your out looking for derek or something, but we really need to talk so please, just come to school today… Those two guys that scott almost killed… theyre dead… like torn apart monster chew-toy dead. So PICK UP YOUR PHONE! I don't have a creative threat to give so just ANSWER THIS FRIGGIN TEXT!_

The last message made my blood run cold.

Mind flashing back to that hazy evening, finding those two men holding a bottle of whiskey… saying they swiped it from two kids… they… they were _dead_?

Dead!

Had I killed them?

I couldn't remember?

I couldn't remember anything besides…

Oh, God… I wanted to kill them…

I turned!

Oh, God… oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…

Shaking, I couldn't see straight, let alone think.

What have I done?

I'm a killer!

I'm a goddamn killer!

No!

No, Charlie, breathe!

Breathe!

Stiles said they died… that some monster killed them… it could have easily been the alpha…

Yeah, the alpha's been killing its way across Beacon Hills since you got back here…

But then why did you wake up naked?

I obviously shifted, but that doesn't mean I killed anyone…

But you woke up covered in _blood_, Charlie… not your own blood, either… someone else's…

I gagged, trembling as I examined my still naked body.

I gagged again.

Oh, God…

Disgusted, I showered, washing myself until all of the grime and dried blood not only left a ring around the tub, but until my sensitive skin was literally scrubbed raw.

Shaking, tried to steady my erratic breathing and heart rate.

Stay calm, Charlie.

You can't freak out until you know for sure.

Throwing on clothes, I glanced at my horrendous reflection in the broken remnants of what used to be my mirror.

My eyes were glassy with dark bags under them, and my skin held a sickly yellowish-green tint to it from my little bender.

Beyond stressed, on top of the upcoming full moon, I knew that the last few injections of horse tranquilizer wouldn't do much for long.

I needed to get more pills… and more alcohol…

No, Charlie!

Focus!

You may have killed someone!

What would Derek think?

…Derek…

I had almost forgotten…

Lip quivering, eyes burning, my heart killed…

Derek was gone…

He was really gone… and he wasn't coming back.

Swallowing, I sniffed back my tears, telling myself to be strong and suck it up.

Shoving the syringe into the bottle, my mind played with what was more important: finding out if I had really killed those two creeps, or murdering Kate and the Alpha.

The answer seemed quite simple.

I was all ready a killer…

I literally ripped apart that retired hunter, and I probably wasted those two men last night…

Why fight it?

Why fight what I am?

Stop telling yourself that you're just a misunderstood predator…

Stop telling yourself that you're capable of good things…

You don't _do_ good…

You do bad.

You _are_ bad.

You're a monster, Charlie… a bloodthirsty monster…

You're a killer.

Inhaling deeply, I then jabbed the needle deep into my bruised and marked up arm, and as my cluttered mind slowly cleared itself, I muttered with dark determination: "You have a lot of work to do, Charlie."

* * *

Part of me felt bad for ignoring everyone's texts, but did they honestly expect me to care about their petty little high school problems?

Break-ups, dick boyfriends, even Scott losing control during the full moon… it all meant nothing to me…

I needed to find out what happened to those men… find out whether or not I had killed them or if the Alpha was involved…

Then I needed to track down the rapid werewolf, kill it, and take down the Argents while I was at it.

Then, and only then, would I be free to leave this God forsaken town in the dust behind me, never to return.

Beacon Hills was a place of nothing but death and torment, but rather than maintaining my lifelong trend of being the misunderstood victim, I was now Hell bent on bringing some of my own chaos and destruction to the sleepy Californian town.

Squatting in the middle of the empty woods, I followed my instincts as I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

Standing in the spot where I had spoken with them, I planned on picking up their scents and following it to the scene of the crime, and as a slight breeze picked up, I sensed where I needed to go next.

Treading lightly, I heard the sound of voices in the distance as I slowly approached, and as the scent of death, blood, and burnt flesh wafted up into my nostrils, I knew that I was close.

Leaping up into a tree with ease, I peered down at Sheriff Stilinski and a few of his deputies loading two corpses onto gurneys.

The smaller, charred body was that of the burnt up blonde man, but he seemed like a model next to the large African American guy who literally looked like a worse version of the Black Dahlia.

Ripped in half, face a hallowed out slop of a mess, and limbs torn off, the officers gagged as they put a white tarp over his various pieces.

Furrowing my brows, I shut my eyes tightly, trying to remember doing such a thing.

I mean the state of that guy was horrendous… nightmarish even…

I should remember doing something like that, shouldn't I?

Then again, I barely could recall tearing into the retired hunter over a year ago…

Shaking off the nagging and stomach-turning guilt, I opened my eyes and strained my ears.

"I'm telling you, Sheriff, I haven't seen anything like this," the vet, who was indeed alive and well, said, eyes wide in shock at the atrocious sight.

"Neither have we," Stiles' dad was equally as disturbed. "Can you give me anything to work with right now?"

"Not until I get the body back to the clinic," the veterinarian responded, though he didn't look at all excited to get up close and personal with those tattered and gory remains.

Both men stood in thick, sickened silence as the two corpses were pushed into the ambulance, and after a few seconds of them merely staring at one another, Mr. Stilinski cleared his throat, clearly choosing not to voice how utterly disturbing these rapidly increasing animal attacks and deaths were getting.

"Well, let me know when you find something," he stated wearily, rubbing his exhausted eyes, the long nights of investigations and days of press releases obviously taking a toll on the Sheriff.

"You'll be my first call," the vet responded, though I could hear his heart skip a beat, signaling that the shady man was lying again.

Grinding my teeth, I watched the bald man hop into his car and start the engine.

How did he escape that night at the school without Derek or I even noticing?

And why did he never press charges or bring up the fact that Derek had a young female accomplice?

None of it made sense… unless Deaton was really the Alpha…

Narrow eyes following his dirtied up white car following the procession of police and emergency vehicles, I silently made a note to myself to get more background information on the owner of the medical clinic.

Jumping down the two-story drop with ease, I landed in stride, wasting no time to check out the scene.

An old and burnt up garbage pail was still roped off with the bright yellow 'caution' tape, but as I peered into it, I found that most of the ashen human remains and clothing had been scooped out and collected by the cops, leaving me with barely anything to go on.

Grumbling to myself, I couldn't help but think how law enforcement constantly seemed to be getting in the way of things rather than helping.

There was obviously zero chance the police would find any traces of recognizable DNA from the charred residue they had collected, and although this definitely eased my mind that nothing could be traced back to me if I did happen to kill those two guys, it also left me with nothing to work with.

Ripping the yellow tape off, I leaned in and stretched my arm as far as possible, making my claws come out so I could scrape up as much of the black ash as possible from the thin crevice at the bottom of the barrel.

Then, after I collected my pitiful sample, I played with the minuscule amount of black powder between my thumb and pointer finger and closed my eyes.

Nothing seemed to be coming back.

Making a face, I took a small whiff of the burnt remains of the blonde man, but still, nothing.

Frowning, I put my hands on my hips in slight frustration.

I tried to think how Derek would approach this…

Use your instincts, he'd say. Don't overthink it.

Gnawing on my lip, I tried to switch off my overwhelmed brain, and as a cool wind picked up a few leaves by my feet, I saw something…

It was a dense, metal object about the size of my palm and oddly resembled a pinecone.

Furrowing my brows, I squatted down and grabbed the nearest stick, rolling the strange object around to get a better look at it.

It was some sort of weapon, for sure, but it was too small and too light to be a grenade… and it had no tab or holes for it to be some sort of pressurized gas container…

Figuring it seemed harmless enough, I made the mistake of picking it up with my bare hands, and the second my skin made contact with it, I immediately had to drop the damned thing.

"Son of bitch!" I hissed through clenched teeth, gripping my burnt hand, which was still bubbling and sizzling. "Pure silver…"

Shimmying off my leather jacket, I then used it to pick the little bastard up and examine it.

It had a sort of torpedo shape, but the thinner end was extremely sharp, easily capable of piercing through both flesh and bone; and once I saw a small, grooved hole at the base of the wider side, I knew I was looking at a custom-made arrowhead.

Who did I recently find out was a nationally ranked archer?

And which family of highly trained, weapon-specialist hunters did she belong to?

"Argent," I growled, eyes flashing dangerously.

Bloodthirsty and ravenous ire bubbling up, I launched the silver weapon against the nearest tree and stormed off to go pay a little visit to the town's favorite family of murderers, not even taking the time to notice that the arrowhead had exploded on contact, setting the towering evergreen right on fire.

* * *

"So what? Another night of kicking through leaves in the woods and shooting at shadows?" a grumpy man in a suit and tie complained as he crossed his arms and stared down some map laid out on the table in front of him.

"I prefer to think of it as another night of trying and failing to keep innocent people from being killed," a different man with graying black hair stated just as sourly.

Grinning to myself, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction that the hunters were also having a difficult time tracking the Alpha.

Hell, they even needed to bring in some friends posing as FEDs.

Body flat against the eves of the Argent's garage, I silently held my breath, presence concealed in the shadows as I listened in on the four hunters discussing their plan of action.

"A list which now includes my daughter," Chris Argent cleaned his weapon with a very serious look, the events at the school a few nights ago clearly shaking him up quite a bit.

Then I noticed the leader of the group shooting his currently staring sister an oddly submissive look, as if he was no longer quite so confident in himself.

Something was off for Chris Argent to be seemingly yielding to his radical younger sibling…

"How do we know it won't go after her again?" the man in the suit asked, as his slightly dressed down partner nodded.

"It won't go after Allison… like any other werewolf, the Alpha's going to be unfocused on the full moon… running around without a target," Mr. Argent explained, reminding me of how careful I, myself, was going to have to be.

I wonder how strong those chains are in the cellar…

Or would it just be easier to keep myself a drugged up mess?

"Which means it'll be easier to hunt down and kill," Chris continued.

"Unless it has a reason to stay focused," the irritatingly beautiful Kate Argent said with a dark look, obviously knowing something they didn't.

Furrowing their brows, all of the men stared blankly at the young woman.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Argent spoke up, eyeing her closely.

Trying to come across as casual as possible, she then responded with a shrug: "I don't know… I mean, there's instances where if they're motivated by strong drives… like revenge maybe, that they stay in control," and as her older brother watched her questionably, she added with a biting tone: "But you tell me, since you're the expert, right?"

Immediately looking away, Chris clearly knew that Kate was withholding information but decided to let it go, all while my own mind was reeling.

Why would she use revenge as an example?

First the Alpha was making the spirals, and now Kate was stating that she basically knew what it was after?

It couldn't be a coincidence…

Watching the clever temptress, I thought back on how she had easily played Derek like a fiddle.

Smart, attractive, cut-throat, and manipulative, part of me had to respect her, but the fact that she literally just confessed to being the arson… or at least knowing about it, well it took all of my will-power to keep from jumping down and ripping her heart right out of her perky little chest.

"And Derek?" Chris asked, brows raised as he directed his icy blue stare at his kid sister.

My heart stopped.

Derek?

Had they heard something about him?

Had his body been uncovered?

"I thought Derek Hale was dead," the dressed down FED seemed a bit confused, as was his partner.

Still intently examining the weapons she had been tampering with, which happened to look quite similar to the customized arrowhead I had found in the forest, Kate muttered dryly: "From my experience, Derek Hale's not that easy to get rid of."

And as an intense wave of pure anger and deep loyalty boiled my blood, I clenched my jaw and balled my fists.

Yeah, you should know! You've tried to kill him countless times by now, you sneaky, murderous bitch!

"Yeah, well even if he's still alive, we still need to track down those other two Betas," the man with graying black hair mused out loud.

_What?_

How did they figure out that there were _two _of us?

Shit, they were definitely shooting at me last night!

Oh my God… I _did _kill those guys.

Mouth going dry, I tried to keep my breathing even.

No, it could have easily been the Alpha… but how the Hell did they figure out that there were two extra Betas in Beacon Hills?

And while I was having a slight mental break down, a distracting buzzing sound suddenly startled me.

Furrowing my brows as the hunters fell silent below me, no doubt distracted by the same mysterious noise that I was, my eyes suddenly popped wide open at the realization that it was actually my phone vibrating in my pocket.

Frantically fumbling around, I repeatedly pressed on the red button on the damned device, silencing it whilst all four dangerous hunters standing directly underneath me stopped what they were doing at looked around suspiciously.

"Did… did you hear something?" the FED in the suit asked, as my pulse raced.

"Y-yeah," Chris Argent raised his gun, eyes narrowed as he peered up into the rafters where I was quietly freaking out.

Sweating profusely, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to keep my breathing even.

Good going, Charlie…

Real friggin smooth not turning your stupid cellphone off…

Maybe it was a good thing Derek wasn't around, cause he'd _never_ let me live this down…

"Oh! Wait," the FED with graying black hair chuckled, causing me to look down and let out a low exhale of relief as he waved his phone about with a smile. "Missed a call… must've been me…"

Biting my lip, I still felt a bit uneasy, for although the man's partner was easily pacified, the Argents were still standing, weapons aimed at my exact location.

Thankfully, however, school must have ended because the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway made all four humans suddenly stand at attention as Chris checked his watch with a flustered expression.

"Dammit," his breathed, shoving his gun into his composed and bored sister's hands while he rolled up the strategic hunting map of the town and forest, clearly wishing to keep his daughter out of it for the time being.

Well at least I now knew for sure that Allison had zero clue about how royally screwed up and twisted her family was…

"All right, I'll call you about tonight," he pressed the button, making the garage doors open and flooding the entire room in bright sunlight.

Rolling back more against the cobweb covered wall, I watched all three men leave the garage, but before I was totally in the clear, I noticed Kate was still looking directly at me.

No longer wielding any deadly weapons, I knew the woman was of no immediate threat, just like I knew there was no possible way she could see me staring right back at her, but my hair was still standing on edge.

That little glint she had in those dark, ominous brown eyes… it was deadly and threatening, but not in the outright beastly and predatory manner the Alpha's gaze had…

No, it was different... cold, calculating, and demented…

It made my blood run cold.

"What are you doing?" Allison's innocent and bright voice thankfully broke her aunt's unnerving gaze.

"W-what?" Kate blinked, turning back around to look at her smirking niece.

Merely cocking her brow with an odd but amused look, the lovely brunette with curly hair stared back at her aunt as she held back a chuckle.

"Oh, you mean the staring off into the shadows?" Kate let out a throaty laugh, playing the whole thing successfully off. "Yeah, that was weird…"

"You okay?" Allison asked with genuine concern after giggling at Kate's response.

"Me? Girl, I should be asking you that," she threw her slender arm around her young and naïve niece.

"It was five days ago," my friend tried to brush off the conversation, for she was probably still quite a bit freaked out from the whole incident.

Hell, I couldn't blame her… I mean, I wasn't exactly handling things very well either…

"I know, but I think I have an idea how to cheer you up," Kate almost sang, picking up her purse with a wicked look as she and Allison headed towards the door to the house. "But let's keep it between us, cause pretty sure your dad would kill me if he found out…"

Perking up, I immediately began playing around with the numerous things that Kate could be doing to lift her niece's spirits, and although all I wanted to do was follow them, I knew I had to be patient and wait until I could get back out of the garage undetected.

Hearing the door close and lock behind the two eagerly giggling girls, I then poked my head out from the rafters and double-checked that I was alone.

Then, jumping down and silently landing, I pulled out my phone and took a few snapshots of the Argents unsettling arsenal of diverse and deadly weapons, specifically designed to cause creatures like me nothing but pain.

And as I was about to slip out of the window from which I snuck in, I noticed my phone light up again.

Jesus Christ… why wouldn't people just leave me alone?

Quickly checking to find that I had 4 missed messages, I decided to quickly read them, having learned my lesson about ignoring calls… even if they were just from annoying teenagers…

_WEDNESDAY (4):_

_Danny:_

_Welp, u skipped again and as punishment for being the WORST lab partner ever I gave Greenberg ur number so HA HA jokes on u. _

_Allison:_

_So im sure ur having a tough time with everything and mb u don't wanna talk about it, but I could really use ur advice. Idk if I made the right decision about scott, and things with my family are just getting weird… I could rly use someone to talk to. I guess I just miss u. _

_Kyle:_

_Hey, Charlie its Kyle. U haven't been in school for a while and I just wanted to see if ur feeling okay. class is boring without having someone to bother. Anyways, feel free to kill danny for giving me ur number. Hope ur feeling better cause when u get back to school I wanna ask u something. KK pce._

_Stiles:_

_FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHARLOTTE HALE ANSWER ME! AND YES I SAID CHARLOTTE HALE IN ALL CAPS, AND NO, IM NOT AFRAID OF YOU! scotts losing it… like having panic attacks and jacksons making moves on allison and in case you forgot, the full moon is TONIGHT! I swear you better be dead or hurt or something, or I swear… idk. JUST ANSWER!_

Gut knotting, I felt pangs of guilt over how absolutely lost and confused Allison probably felt since the other night.

We literally all almost died, she broke up with her boyfriend for keeping secrets from her, and now she was sensing that her family was hiding things too…

She just needed someone to talk to, to not feel so alone, and I, of all people should understand that…

But I wasn't the person to be coming to advice to... about anything…

And if I wasn't capable of being her shoulder to cry on, how could I be expected to help Stiles keep Scott in check this full moon?

I was drugged up, erratic, highly emotional, and was honestly bouncing between wanting to off myself or slaughter the entire damned town.

No.

There was no point in feeling bad and certainly no sense in wasting any energy on it.

I needed to focus long enough to figure my own crap out so I could leave everyone behind… so I could be free from all of their expectations and cries for help…

I wasn't their friend, and I certainly wasn't their savior.

Charlie Hale was no hero.

Quickly sneaking out of the garage, I scaled my way up to Allison's bedroom window, assuming that I had waited a long enough time to figure out what the two females were up to, and what I saw surprised me to say the least.

I don't know what I was expecting.

Maybe an older relative sneaking her young niece booze, like a normal family, but then again, the Argents were far from normal.

"Well, what's our hapless victim's name?" Kate asked, head cocked to the side as a timid Allison stared down at the massive Taser in her delicate hands.

"Mr. Bear," she muttered back as I listened to her rising heart rate.

"You named your teddy bear Mr. Bear?" Kate teasingly scoffed. "That's, like, the worst teddy bear name in the world…"

"I was five years old," Allison shot her aunt a defensive look.

Staring at the cute inanimate furry object seated on Allison's plush bed, I kept my body low as I watched on, feeling both intrigued and slightly horrified.

Kate Argent was literally a crazy bitch…

I mean who gives a Taser to a 17 year old?

And furthermore… who makes said 17 year old Taser her most cherished childhood possession?

I'll tell you who! Crazy bitches!

"All right, well, just shoot your unimaginatively named bear and put it out of its misery," she stated dully as she examined her manicure.

Trembling a bit, Allison inhaled deeply, clearly not as into this as her aunt wanted her to be.

Then, taking aim, she scrunched up her pretty face and fired, hitting poor Mr. Bear right in the face.

Smoking and almost catching fire, Allison's wide, stunned brown eyes almost looked sad, but low and behold, Kate was anything but mournful.

Clapping excitedly, she jumped a bit as she cheered and laughed merrily: "YES! See, that's what I'm talking about! Now if you had that the other night…"

Brown eyes finally landing on the shaking and almost crying Allison Argent, Kate paused and asked with a concerned tone: "Whoa, wait a minute…I thought you wanted to learn how to do this, sweetie."

So she _can _feel compassion, huh?

Yeah, well where was that when she killed my entire family?

Feeling my own pulse race, I tried to keep myself calm, but with the tranquilizer almost fully out of my system at this point, I knew I was going to have to shoot up again, and soon.

"I just… I just don't know what happened," she plopped down her bed with tearful eyes while her aunt merely stared blankly down at her, obviously lost over what was upsetting the young girl. "W-with Scott…"

Oh, God… not this…

This was the type of conversation I had been trying to avoid.

Rolling my eyes, I tried to ignore her pitiful cries of teenage heartbreak and block out my own irritating feelings of weak empathy.

"Aw, listen, my gorgeous, young niece… you're gonna break hearts left and right, okay? And he was lucky to have gotten the tiny, little taste of Allison Argent's world that he got," Kate smiled warmly, sitting beside her crying family member and giving her a small hug.

Lip quivering, Allison tried to explain the complexity of her literally one month relationship: "B-but it just… it felt so right with him… and then he just started acting so strange, and now I don't know what to believe…"

Unable to take this anymore, my patience was thin as my head throbbed.

This stakeout had been basically a bust, offering me no leads or vital information to go on besides the fact that the Argents had a frighteningly diverse and imaginative arsenal of weapons.

So, needless to say, I was keen on getting away before anyone noticed a strange girl creeping on their neighbors in broad daylight.

And as I stealthily inched my way off the edge of the roof and into the bushes, I heard Kate give her stereotypical 'guys are stupid' response.

"It's just the whole thing with Derek Hale the other night, and Scott saying he didn't know him, but I've seen them together."

Allison's words literally made me stop in my tracks.

Did she _have_ to mention Derek?

"Whoa, hold on… back up… Scott knows Derek?" I heard Kate's voice suddenly become quite aggressive and stern. "Like alleged killer Derek Hale? Are they friends?" she demanded.

"N-no, not really… I-I mean that's what he said," Allison stumbled over her words whilst I felt my heart pounding in my chest.

Please, for the love of God, stop talking…

Do _not_ say how Scott knows him…

Do _not_ say how _I_ know him!

Oh, God… she's gonna blow my cover…

They're gonna think I'm the third Beta…

Feeling nauseous, I couldn't move as I continued to listen, frozen in my spot on the sidewalk right in front of their house.

"Well how does he know him then?" Kate Argent pushed on, as a dizzy spell began to sweep over me.

Please, Allison… please…

"I-I don't know," my friend mumbled, sounding a bit uneasy over how adamant and pressuring her aunt was being.

"Well does anyone else know Derek?" her voice was strained and unnatural.

My stomach dropped…

Oh, Lord… this was it…

All of my work to keep my identity a secret, to keep myself from being traced back to my deceased older cousin, to protect who and what I was… it was all going to be destroyed…

After a long, sickening pause, however, Allison did something I was certainly not expecting.

She lied.

"N-no," Allison stammered unconvincingly.

"Allison," her aunt spoke crossly.

"No," her voice was now much more firm, making me actually want to run up there and give the girl a great big kiss. "No one that I know of…"

Relieved and absolutely shocked over how much I had just lucked out, I felt my lungs finally filling up with oxygen again, for I was unable to even breathe during that whole exchange.

"Okay, how about you tell me everything that Scott said about Derek," Kate's voice was low, holding a somewhat ominous undertone to it.

"W-what do you mean by everything?"

"I mean… _everything_," Kate Argent's words were dark, and as I stood there, debating whether or not to rush back onto the roof and listen in, I was unexpectedly interrupted.

My small lucky streak had proven a depressingly short one, for the second I slowly turned around, I found myself staring at Sheriff Stilinski.

Heart falling into my stomach, I immediately began to shake as he exited the cop car and looked down at me with the most grave of expressions.

Oh no…

"Charlotte Hale… you need to come with me…"

And as my vision became blurry, I silently stepped into the back of the open squad car as the world came crashing down around me.

My DNA must have shown up at the crime scene…

I had definitely turned last night, and the blood I awoke in this morning was certainly not my own…

I had done it again…

I had lost control, and I had murdered not just one person, but two.


	16. Chapter 16

**WOW! So one, SO SORRY it took forever to update. hit a bit of a writer's block, plus I just got back from spending 4 months in the UK, so I needed to unpack, see family and friends, and sort out things for work, so SORRY AGAIN!**

**Also, the reviews are still continuing to literally blow me away! I lot of you want to know what actress would play Charlie. The picture in the title was of some girl I found on tumblr or pinterest (can't remember) and she had really nice black hair and gray eyes, so she had her coloring. Another girl I think a lot when writing Charlie is the model Barbara Pavlin (with much darker hair and gray eyes instead of blue... except the blue works when Charlie's halfway shifted). I also think of Katherine Pierce from Vampire Diaries in terms of Charlie's outfits/body language/how she walks/talks etc... hope that helps!**

**I just wanna say thanks again for all the follows and favorites I've gotten for this, and the comments, so many of you literally are saying this is your favorite fanfiction and it literally makes me sooooo beyond proud and humbled to hear that. I hope you enjoy this chapter, but it was kind of hard to write (as stated above), so please let me know what y'all think! OKAY, read away my lovelies!**

**PS: Let me know if you want me to make an 8tracks for this story using all the song titles. These songs usually remind me of Charlie or inspire me while writing a particular scene, and I'd love to share it with you all!**

**SIXTEEN: HARSH REALM**

Sitting in the middle of the sheriff's private office in the bustling Beacon Hills Police station, I bit at my nails whilst profusely sweating.

Ordinarily I would have made a fuss and argued about getting into a cop car, demanding a reason for my being detained, however I figured drawing attention to myself as I lurked outside of the Argent's home was not the smartest of ideas.

So, after a long and silent ride to the station, Mr. Stilinski had left me alone in his office with nothing to distract my racing mind.

Heart pounding in my chest as my upset stomach churned about, I tried to keep myself as calm as possible.

I knew they had to have found my DNA at the crime scene, or perhaps a witness had seen me the night of the brutal murders…

Either way, I was in trouble…

No, scratch that… I was in deep, deep shit…

What was I going to do?

I knew I deserved what I got… I was a menace to society… but I needed to avenge my family, to avenge Derek…

How the Hell was I gonna get out of this, or at least buy myself enough time to track down and kill the Alpha, as well as the Argents?

Bouncing my leg, I stared ahead, trying to ignore my pounding headache.

This was no time to act like some junkie going through withdrawal…

I was going to be questioned for murder, or worse, be arrested, and getting an extra charge for possession of illegal drugs was not something I could afford right now.

I couldn't believe this was really happening.

Derek was dead.

The Alpha that had killed both him and Laura was still running around, as was the arson that destroyed my entire life…

And now, after proving to myself yet again how absolutely weak I was, I had given into my worst and darkest inner demons, and lost control, killing two people.

Before I could get anymore down on myself or spiral further into madness, the door opened as Sheriff Stilinski stepped back into his office.

Pale green eyes watching me closely, the man with graying brown hair sat down with a very stern look.

Silently organizing the papers on his desk, he typed a few things on the computer, eyes glancing over at my pale and petrified face watching his every move.

And as time continued to tick away, I felt my heart beat faster and faster.

Why wasn't he talking?

The silence was killing me!

Then, as the man suddenly cleared his throat, I literally jumped a bit in my seat, sweaty palms white-knuckling the armrests of the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Now, Charlotte," the sheriff's words made me cringe, "do you know why you're here?"

Mouth going dry, I tried to swallow but found I couldn't.

"Ugh, um, honestly?" I stuttered my horrible lie, "N-no?"

"So over the past couple of days you haven't been doing anything I should know about?" he raised his brows at me, clearly unconvinced.

Like running around and killing people?

Or breaking in and stalking the Argents?

And planning to kill them?

"L-like what?" I gulped.

"Oh, I don't know," he prodded a bit more, "Something that could get you in trouble with the law…"

Oh God, he knows…

Trembling, I felt myself growing more and more physically ill as I struggled to appear as innocent as possible: "I-I'm sorry?"

"Miss Hale, I know what you did, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you that it is a _serious_ federal crime," Mr. Stilinski eyed me closely, his grave tone of voice dripping with a threatening undertone.

Oh my God… so I definitely _did_ kill those two men, and now, he knew…

Eyes welling up despite my best efforts to keep my expression as unreadable as possible, I couldn't help but become overwhelmed by self-loathing, and as the man's stare continued to bore into my troubled and guilt-ridden soul, it took all I had to keep from bursting into tears.

Opening my mouth, I tried to speak, but nothing came out, because suddenly something had dawned on me…

I had made certain to always introduce myself as just 'Charlie', never giving away my complete identity, especially after Derek's first arrest… so how did Sheriff Stilinski know my full name?

"Hacking into federal and state identification systems, forging legal documentation about yourself… you could go to jail for something like this… even as a minor," the handsome cop gazed at me with a very severe and serious expression.

Wait a minute…

What was going on here?

Was I getting pinched for simple fraud?

Heart lifting a bit, I tried not to sigh in complete and utter relief as I stammered: "H-how did you…"

Cutting me off, Mr. Stilinski spoke over my timid words: "Your conduct at school has been troubling the faculty. First, no one showed up to your parent-teacher conference, and then you disappeared from detention without a word to anybody," he explained with a scolding tone of voice. "So finally, after being absent for almost a full week of classes after your involvement with break-in, they called your house."

I knew I was still technically in trouble, for hacking into confidential government files and tampering with my own was a serious offense, but I couldn't help but feel my heart lift from the pit that was once eating away at my stomach.

Biting my cheek, I tried my very hardest to keep from smiling while Sheriff Stilinski continued to divulge just how bad my behavior had been.

"And after a couple of days with no response, they called us to drop by your house and speak to your relatives… but of course, when I spoke to that young man and his wife, they had never heard of you. They're not even listed under the same name that you had provided on your paperwork, and there's no documentation of you even living in Beacon Hills or the state of California" his austere pale green eyes watched me keenly. "Wanna tell me why that is?"

Averting my eyes, I attempted to sound as apologetic as possible; I merely remained silent and shook my head, deciding that speaking could very well get me into more trouble with the law.

Sighing, Mr. Stilinski stonily searched through the pile of manila folders on his overly crowded desk as he continued: "Well, naturally we filed a missing persons case, and when we did a nationwide search, we found some interesting things about you…"

Grabbing a file and pulling it out of the pile, the sheriff flipped through the pages and turned the folder so that I could see what he was talking about.

Glancing down at Derek's file, my eyes landed on the useless mug shot that my older cousin had cleverly used his wolf eyes to mess with the flash and conceal his face by the resulting camera flare.

I had to hand it to him… sometimes that old pain in the ass was really smart…

Biting down on my cheek even harder, I glanced back up at the sheriff's unamused face.

"You are Derek Hale's last remaining relative," Mr. Stilinski stated, "And you falsified documentation to keep this information a secret, so I want to know why."

Maybe because we're a bunch of vengeful werewolves who came to town looking to kill the arsons and mysterious monster running around town, slaughtering people?

Figuring I should probably keep the truth to myself, I decided to play the role of a highly intimidated teenager and stare back in apprehensive silence.

"Charlie, I don't think you understand how serious this situation is," the man barked at me, no longer seeming like the mild-mannered and pleasant dad I had met up in Stiles' bedroom. "This makes you a suspect…"

"A suspect?" I repeated in disbelief. "A suspect for what?"

"Murder," he spoke darkly, eyes scanning my confused face. "Derek is currently under investigation for the deaths of three to five people, one of which includes his sister… your cousin… Laura Hale."

Opening my mouth to defend my older cousin's innocence, I immediately stopped myself, stifling that innate and loyal instinct to protect Derek's honor.

It killed me to have to keep going along with defaming him, but maybe Stiles and Scott _were _right… blaming him for the sake of saving my own hide wouldn't do him any harm…

Derek was dead, and I wasn't, and I needed to start coming to grips with that.

Eyes tearing up despite myself, I blinked furiously as I chipped away at my nail polish.

"Look, I know you're not guilty," Sheriff Stilinski's harsh voice suddenly softened, making me look back up at his concerned face: "But you need to give me something to go on… you need to tell me the truth about why you forged those files."

"B-but I…"

"Don't lie to me!" he cut me off in a scolding manner. "You could go to jail for this, unless you work with me here…"

Taking in the handsome yet man's tired face, I could tell that underneath his stern and professionally assertive appearance was a pleading desire to help me.

It had been a long time since an adult had chewed me out not simply for being a bourdon or nuisance, but rather because they were genuinely worried about me and felt compelled to actually help.

It felt oddly nice…

Biting my lip, I finally muttered in a low, surrendering tone of voice: "What do you need me to say?"

Face relaxing a bit, Mr. Stilinski leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms: "I just need you to give me some proof of your innocence, that way we can keep your falsifying legal documentation from reaching court, and I can take you into protective custody until we sort this whole mess out…"

Furrowing my brows, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of both relief and confusion.

Sure, I was ecstatic that Mr. Stilinski was willing to help me avoid jail time and keep my little indiscretion between the two of us, but what did he mean by protective custody?

As if reading my mind, the sheriff explained: "I know that after your mother passed away when you were seven, you went to live with the Hales here in Beacon Hills, and I know that you were to sole survivor after the fire…"

"You mean arson," I corrected him bitterly as I looked away from the police offer's empathetic gaze and felt my eyes well up once again.

God, I was such an emotional wreck…

Shifting positions uncomfortably, Sheriff Stilinski chose to ignore my comment and simply continued to speak: "But, ugh, after you moved back to New York with Laura Hale… correct?"

Nodding, I balled my fists a bit and added stiffly: "And Derek."

"But you were closer with Laura," Mr. Stilinski stated with a slow and heavy nod. "She was over 18 and became your legal guardian, and Derek went back to college… where he got into a bit of trouble…"

Thinking back to that turbulent time in my recently murdered cousin's past, I knew exactly what files the sheriff must have pulled.

Derek alienated himself from Laura and I after the fire, and while I closed myself off, choosing to remain in wolf form and try to forget those horrific memories, he elected to distract himself in other ways.

Getting drunk, sleeping around, partying… Derek did all he could to dull the pain, and even though Laura warned him that his misbehavior and fighting could set him off and out us, he didn't care…

Thinking back on it, Derek was once a lot like I was…

"He even got violent a few times and had to spend a couple of nights in jail," Mr. Stilinski read off the file.

Yeah, cause maybe he was struggling to deal with the fact that his entire family had been burned alive…

Cracking my knuckles, it was my turn to shift in my seat, however it was to help keep my mouth shut about how absolutely ludicrous this was.

Keep calm, Charlie.

Just see where he's going with this…

He's trying to help you out…

Feeling the sheriff's eyes locked on me, I breathed deeply and looked back up at him, struggling to block out my pounding headache and keep my growing rage in check.

"Then, a little over a year and a half ago, on the anniversary of the fire, a man named Jim Elkins was found dead in the woods just a few miles from Derek's college campus."

Chest tightening, my mind flashed with the memories of the incident, of my losing control and blacking out, only to wake up covered in blood and naked in the woods, feeling just as lost and sickened as I had earlier today.

"Nothing was ever tied to him, of course, but about seven months later, Laura took off for Beacon Hills, obviously followed by you and your cousin," Sheriff Stilinski stated, his pale green eyes watching my slightly twitching face before continuing. "And then, after about four weeks, she was found dead…"

"And you think Derek killed her?" I couldn't help myself, my innate loyalty for my dead older cousin bubbling to the surface.

Seemingly taken aback by how hostile my voice was, the police officer responded uneasily: "We know that everywhere Derek has gone, people have died…"

"And you really think he killed his sister?" I scoffed in utter disbelief.

"I think losing your entire family can drive people to do crazy things," Sheriff Stilinski stated in a low, somewhat sad face.

Gazing across the desk at the exhausted man's sincere expression, part of me felt like he honestly didn't want to believe Derek was some sort of murderous monster, however, I also knew that he seemed to think that my older cousin was a damaged man that snapped and became a crazed killer…

Needless to say, I didn't quite know where this conversation was going, let alone how I felt about it…

"S-so what are you saying?" I muttered, completely perplexed.

"Listen, the janitor, the bus driver, Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore, Laura, and the murder back in New York… there is one common denominator…"

"Derek," I cut the man off, voice highly irritated and impatient.

Was my cousin really being blamed for the Alpha's actions… and for _my _mistakes?

"No," he shook his head, eyes focused intently on my sour form: "You."

* * *

_"__For some reason, the last anniversary of the fire set your cousin off. He was kicked out a bar in upstate New York and drunkenly made his way back to your apartment in the city. The next day, you and Laura were gone and Mr. Elkin's mangled body was found by the interstate his car was seen speeding down."_

_ "__The cops said it was an animal attack… they even found white wolf hairs on the body," I tried to seem unshaken as I defended my older cousin's honor, but Mr. Stilinski was persistent. _

_Ignoring my words, he waved me off and continued: "You and Laura fled to Beacon Hills, and months later, she's found torn apart and buried just outside of your old property…"_

_ "__So?" I asked, starting to see where he was going with this._

_ "__So you attend Beacon Hills High School and a bus driver from there was killed… you go to the video store in town and two of your schoolmates were attacked and the store clerk was murdered," the sheriff explained further, making me realize just how crazy of a coincidence this must have seemed to him. "And then, you were at the school the night of janitor's death and barely got out alive yourself."_

_I had to admit, his theory seemed quite plausible, especially after how beaten up I looked after the break-in at Beacon Hills._

_Light green eyes looking sadly into mine, he watched me process what he was saying before adding in a low, understanding voice: "I'm not condoning your actions, Charlie, but I do believe that you forged those files and skipped school to keep yourself safe, and keep others safe…" _

And although I knew that my actions were not remotely as selfless as the kind sheriff thought, I also understood that I needed to go along with it to stay out of jail and remain under the radar.

So that is how I currently found myself sitting on the floor of the Stilinski's porcelain bathtub, eyes closed as the sheriff's words bounced around my hazy head.

Protective custody.

That's what he said this was.

I had no family left, and until they could find somewhere better to ship me off to, I would be staying here…

Not that I could honestly complain, living in a home with electricity, getting a mattress that wasn't lumpy and moth-eaten or lying on a dirty floor, but the scalding hot water cascading over my seated form, now that was heavenly…

It had been ages since I had a warm shower, so there I sat, most likely for hours, skin slowly pruning and recent injection of drugs flowing throughout my entire limp and exhausted body.

Back and head propped up against the white tile wall, my heavy eyes fluttered open and landed on my slowly healing arms. Although the bruising and swelling was definitely going down, I examined the various scabs and puncture marks still marring my pale skin.

I had only one bottle left, and as I tried to tell myself that I'd be okay without them, that I shouldn't press my luck and risk getting into more trouble by trying to sneak more, my thoughts floated back to how, even if Mr. Stilinski believed my innocence, I had most likely murdered those two men.

Blinking furiously, I held back guilty tears.

I knew that if the police hadn't found any DNA linking me to the killings yet, I was most likely in the clear, however part of me actually wished for something to turn up…

I was a killer.

I was a ruthless, cold-blooded monster that, regardless of how much I tried to keep those dark and deadly urges at bay, I would still end up losing control and take another innocent life.

I deserved to be put down, or at least locked away for the remainder of my days.

Sniffling, I hugged my knees and rested my quietly sobbing face on my folded arms, wondering how my life had come to this.

Everyone was gone, and now I felt like I was even losing myself…

Like my humanity was slipping away…

I could barely remember what it felt like to be a normal person… to be someone surrounded by friends and family that cared for them… to give a damn whether or not they were spiraling out of control…

But that wasn't my life, and it never would be.

I had accepted this lonely seclusion for so long, but now that Derek was gone, the dark empty hole that I had tried so hard to keep stifled and buried deep within myself, it was slowly clawing its way back to the surface, and this time, no one would be there to help me overcome it, and in all honesty, I was tired of trying.

Wiping away my tears furiously, I mentally yelled at myself as I took a shaking hand and grabbed the syringe, emptying the rest of its contents into my all ready numb arm.

The full moon was tonight, and I needed to block out everything.

I needed to forget about the guilt, the grief, the anger… all of this pain, loneliness, and self-hatred… I just needed to forget it all…

Sighing, I slowly stood up and turned the water off before stepping out into the steam-filled bathroom.

Wiping the condensation off of the mirror, I looked at my glassy, hauntingly gray eyes, and though I still looked absolutely drained, the shower had done me some good.

Skin a bit rosy from the heat, I rung out my dripping raven black hair in the sink and stared back at my frowning face.

You need to get a grip, Charlie.

You need to act like your fine… pretend like you're okay until you believe it.

I smiled.

It looked strained and painful as my face twitched, the false grin falling as my lip quivered.

"Stop it, Charlie," I shakily breathed, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. "Stop."

Biting my lips, I balled my hands into two tight fists, trying to let my clenched eyes reabsorb the tears fighting to escape.

"Stop," I whispered sorrowfully. "Stop…"

Clearing my throat, I immediately splashed cold water on my face, and after another moment of taking in the broken girl staring pitifully back at me, I turned my back to that repulsive personification of weakness and grabbed the only fluffy maroon towel in the bathroom.

And as I wrapped the thing around my naked body, just barely pulling the towel around to cover my breasts and bum, a sweaty Stiles Stilinski burst into the bathroom without warning.

Still flushed and blotchy from this afternoon's practice, the gawky teen's wide brown eyes took in my basically naked form standing in the bathroom, just as shocked and surprised as he was.

Clutching the towel around my dripping form, my face burned red as the dorky kid's mouth hung open, jaw almost hitting the floor.

Inaudible sounds coming from Stiles' throat merely came out as choked syllables whilst his own flushed cheeks became bright red, his eyes scanning every inch of my curves being hugged by the towel that was obviously his own.

Barely able to speak myself, I simply stared back at his dumbfounded and clearly somewhat aroused face.

"G-get out!" I finally yelped, trying to cover myself up even more.

"Y-yeah… r-right," he blinked a few times, but he seemed to be unable to even process what was going on, for his wide eyes were still taking in every inch of my stiff body.

"NOW!" I barked, voice strained as I heard Stiles' heart racing as fast as mine.

"S-sorry!" his voice cracked as he finally realized he should cover his eyes and leave, and as he blindly turned around, he slammed into the door before rushing out into the hallway.

Closing the door behind the teenager hissing in pain and rubbing his red forehead, I couldn't help but chuckle as his expense.

"Charlie, I didn't see anything," I heard his muffled and pained voice blurt out from behind the door, "I swear…"

Throwing on my V-neck gray t-shirt and stepping onto my jean shorts, I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway as I buttoned them up, eyeing the furiously blushing Stiles still covering his eyes with his back pressed against the wall.

"You can open up," I stated lazily, trying to seem like I was not even the slightest bit embarrassed from the events that had just taken place.

Slowly lowering his hand, the pale and lanky teen returned to rubbing his furrowed brows and watched me saunter past him, detangling my wet hair with my fingers.

Dropping his lacrosse stick and bag onto the floor, he wordlessly followed me to the small guest bedroom that was adjacent to his own.

Clearly lost, his confused face merely watched me plop down on the bed and open my most recent software and malware book.

"W-what… h-how… what's going on?" he stammered, no doubt shocked to see the girl who had been missing for five days now suddenly seated quite comfortably in his spare bedroom.

Glancing up at the shocked teenager gaping at me, and then back at the book, I casually shrugged: "I'm reading?"

Flailing about, he quickly closed the door behind him before his high-pitched and strained voice cried: "I thought you were _dead_!"

Trying not to smirk at how worked up the energetic kid was, I stated wryly: "Well I'm not, so that's good news, right?"

"You couldn't have let me know that? Or texted me back?" Stiles' arms violently gestured about, brows up to his hairline.

"I was busy," I responded simply, looking back down at my book and pretending to read, although the words on the page were way too blurry for my drugged eyes to even focus on.

"Busy?" he repeated wildly. "_Busy_! Scott's been going all psycho werewolf left and right… like major panic attacks, and Jackson's been making moves on Allison which is making him even more aggressive than usual, and then he literally like destroyed Danny on the lacrosse field today," he rambled on at a mile a minute, and although his blabbering away usually gave me a headache, I could only concentrate on how beautiful those large caramel eyes looked.

Since when were they that bright?

And did they always have gold speckles in them?

Staring blankly at him, I barely even noticed that he was now actually asking me a direct question.

"Charlie?" he seemed a bit irritated over how inattentive I was being.

"It's, um, it's just the full moon," I murmured, mostly to myself.

Yeah, that was it.

I was being weird and hormonal from the full moon, especially after the week I've had…

"What?" he asked, extremely puzzled and completely unaware as to what I was referring to.

Clearing my throat, I blinked, shook my head, and rubbed my bleary eyes.

"It's the full moon," I repeated with a much less spacey voice. "It makes us a little out of it…"

"Yeah, no shit," he muttered bitterly with a large frown as his pulse increased a bit.

Something was wrong.

"He'll be okay," I offered, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, but the lanky and dorky kid merely waved me off.

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, mind no doubt on something else that was troubling him.

Stiles looked actually upset, and not just his usual overly-flustered and stressed out self.

Something had to have happened…

"What's going on?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what could have made him this mad.

Opening his mouth, he looked at me and prepared to get whatever the issue was off his chest, but instead, he simply asked: "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Making a face, I folded my arms and leaned back against the headboard.

Fine… I didn't want to know why he seemed to betrayed and hurt anyway…

"You're dad didn't tell you?" I inquired, brow raised.

"He's not home," he responded. "Busy looking for Derek…"

Now it was my turn to look away with a frown.

"I-I'm sorry," the boy quickly stated with genuine empathy.

Ignoring his steady gaze, I responded evenly: "It's fine."

"I-I mean no body's turned up, so there's still a chance…"

"I said it's fine, Stiles," I spoke sharply, rubbing my temples and trying to keep the depressing topic from ruining my high.

Not tonight, Charlie.

Just keep it together and stay calm tonight…

Pausing, the smelly teen nodded and leaned back against the door a bit clumsily as he crossed his arms.

Making a face, he continued to watch me uncomfortably.

"So…" he puffed out his cheeks, running a hand over his short, dark brown chair. "My dad obviously knows you're here…"

"Yup," I continued to try to look as if I were reading, meanwhile all I could focus on was keeping my heart rate low.

Why was he staring at me like that?

Did he know I was high?

Did I look like I had been crying?

Was he picturing me naked?

Oh, God… did he actually _see_ me naked?

"Well, wanna tell me?" he asked, clearly impatient that I didn't elaborate more.

"I'm in protective custody until they catch him," I replied, with a sigh, "And since my entire family's dead, your dad thinks its best I stay here… you know, to be safe."

Watching my somewhat amused expression at the thought of some human protecting me, Stiles furrowed his brows: "Y-you're staying… um, you're staying here? With us?"

Smiling dryly, I raised my own brows and glanced back up from the book: "Seems so…"

"Wait… why are you even under protective custody?" he voiced his confusion.

"For protection?" I snarkily responded.

Obviously unamused, Stiles gave me a pointed look.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily and explained: "Your dad seems to think Derek's going all Michael Myers, except instead of stalking his baby sister, he's trying to kill me… his little cousin…"

Eyes widening, Stiles immediately blurted out: "I swear I didn't tell him."

"I know," I cut off his avid apology with a small smirk, an odd warm-hearted feeling washing over me from how much this kid felt he needed to clarify that he hadn't thrown me under the bus, too. "Your dad figured it out."

"H-he did?" he asked in surprise, before proudly puffing out his chest. "I mean, of course he did… he's my dad…"

Smirking, I couldn't help but admire just how loyal he was to his father… or to me for that matter…

I got why he was so proud of his dad.

Sheriff Stilinski was a hard-working man and good father, a good person… but me?

To him I was nothing but a snarky, pain-in-the-ass werewolf that was only around because of mere chance…

Unaware that we were both literally just staring at one another, we both eventually caught on and awkwardly looked away, faces flushing once again.

"R-right, well I should, ugh, I should go shower," he mumbled, however he just continued to stand there, watching me dumbly.

Nodding vehemently, I made a disgusted face and shooed him away: "Yeah, get out of here… you stink."

Expression becoming a slightly offended one, the awkward teenager then quickly lifted his sweaty pinny to sniff it, exposing his surprisingly muscular lower abs.

My breath hitched, and as I took in the thin dark brown happy trail disappearing into his boxer briefs, I had to quickly look away once Stiles grimaced and looked back at me.

Thankfully unaware of my bright pink cheeks and flustered appearance, the teenage boy admittedly stated that he was indeed, quite ripe, before exiting the room, and leaving me on the bed, fighting a hot flash and dizzy spell.

Christ, I hated what the full moon did to me…

* * *

Lying on my back, head hanging off the bed, I flipped through the television channels at a dizzying speed, glazed eyes watched the blurred colors and images flash across the screen.

Brain fuzzy, I could feel my newest dosage surging throughout my veins, but as I heard the sound of someone approaching the room, I blindly pushed the bottle and needle under the pillow, concealing it just in time.

Knocking, Stiles didn't even wait for me to respond before he practically fell through the door, freshly showered and dressed in his usual get-up of a t-shirt and flannel.

"Sure," I droned lazily. "Come on in."

Eyeing me closely, the pale teen's eyes assessed my current activity of watching the flipping channels up side down.

"Ugh, you okay?" he asked, brows raised.

"My cousin's dead, I've got hunters trying to kill me, and there's some crazy Alpha running around, but I'm just _dandy_," I sarcastically responded, glancing up at the boy towering over me, his blurred image splitting into two.

"A simple 'no' would have been just fine," Stiles took the remote out of my hands and put it on the nightstand.

Sighing in irritation, I rolled over and propped my chin in my hands, taking in the boring infomercials playing on the television set.

Sitting down beside me, I felt the teenager's eyes watching me intently.

Self-consciously making sure that punctures and slight bruising on my left arm was invisible to him, I asked in a vexed tone of voice: "Is there a reason why you're in here?"

"Ugh, yeah," he immediately stared at the TV as he scratched his neck awkwardly: "I, um, I wanted to ugh… h-how… how are you handling things?"

Shooting him an incredulous look that he would even ask me such a stupid question, Stiles quickly added: "I-I mean like you resisted the shift, but tonight's the full moon and…"

"And you're worried I won't be able to control myself," I finished his thoughts, staring at his uncomfortable face expectantly.

Nodding, the boy licked his bottom lip and bounced his leg: "Um, y-yeah… kind of."

Shaking my head, I stonily gave my response as I looked back at the TV in annoyance: "I'll be fine."

"But stress and stuff, that like makes it harder, doesn't it?" he persisted to pester me.

"So do annoying people," I hissed irritably.

Swallowing hard, I heard the teenager's heart beating a bit fast, my dangerous attitude and odd behavior obviously making him uneasy.

"Okay, but I, ugh, I just need to make sure that you'll be okay… I mean it's the full moon and my dad's probably gonna at least check up on you tonight," Stiles timidly trailed off, making my irritation immediately melt away.

"Stiles," I stated firmly, gaze no longer harsh, but rather determined: "No one's gonna hurt your dad tonight, okay? Not me, not the Alpha… no one…"

Looking down at his nervously tapping foot, he then glanced up at my sincere expression and slowly nodded, flashing a grateful, yet forced smile.

"Y-yeah, you're right," he tried to shake off his anxieties, however, I knew my comforting words would only go so far.

I understood that I wasn't in any position to make such a promise, but deep down, there was a part of me that knew if I did shift, Sheriff Stilinski would be safe, at least from me.

I felt an innate liking for the man.

He was good and just, and he didn't make me feel like a delinquent when we spoke…

He looked me right in the eye and talked to me with both parental concern and firmness, but also respect, which was a rare quality to find in adults, let alone adults who interacted with me.

"Okay," Stiles sighed, glancing at the clock across the room. "Well I promised Scott I'd lock him up… you know, just in case… so you, ugh, you wanna come?"

Looking out the window of the now darkened night sky, I shook my head, feeling my pulse increase a bit at the thought of seeing Scott McCall.

I knew why he pinned everything on Derek, and I knew that he was genuinely sorry, but I was an unforgiving person by nature, and this personality trait was only be magnified during the full moon.

"I think I should just stay here," I answered honestly. "I need to avoid getting agitated and I'm not exactly cool with Scott, so…"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Stiles muttered resentfully, light brown eyes flashing darkly.

Furrowing my brows, I merely gave the teenager a quizzical look as he rose from his seat.

Choosing to ignore my curious stares and keep whatever was going on between him and his best friend, the pale and gawky teenager headed towards the door and stepped out into the hallway, but before he skulked away, he popped his head back in and pointed at me scoldingly: "Oh! And keep your phone on you, and actually _answer _it if I call? Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," I waved him off nonchalantly, secretly enjoying listening to his heart rate increase with vexation.

"I mean it!" he cried, brows raised. "Answer it or…"

"Or what?" I cut him off, brow cocked in amusement.

Pausing, Stiles' mouth was opened as he search for a response, but when none came to mind, the flushed boy simply huffed and waved about erratically: "God, could you just do it?"

Chuckling, I put my hands up in surrender and conceded to keep my phone by me and _actually_ use it.

Nodding joltingly, Stiles smirked a bit over his small victory and then walked away whilst I continued to giggle and shake my head at how easily I could work up and then pacify the charmingly awkward teen.

* * *

As it grew later and later into the evening, I felt myself going restless, and even though I had gone through countless full moons, the heightened senses, raging emotions, and agitation never got any easier.

So on top of the full moon's amplification of my own internal demons and dark, depressing, and stressed thoughts, I also had to deal with my phone continuing to blow up, but unlike last time, I couldn't just ignore the messages.

Danny had texted me again, calling me a bad lab partner, and although I could wait until school to address that particular situation, Allison's worried and clearly upset texts forced me to engage in the irritating task of participating in high school drama.

So after shooting up two more times, causing my high to become so intense that I could barely lift my head up from the pillows it was propped against, I offered my pathetic lie.

Basically explaining that due to my relation to Derek, the cops had told me to lay low for a while until they could figure out a plan of action, and now placed into temporary protective custody, I was finally able to respond to everyone and return to school.

Needless to say, after I gave her that false excuse as to why I had been ignoring her, Allison Argent, bless her soul, completely dropped the whole issue of her and Scott breaking up and profusely apologized as if she had come across rude or selfish.

And with that familiar sensation of guilt digging into my gut, the only thing I could respond was a sanctimonious: "_It's fine, but I'm tired. I'll just talk to you tomorrow."_

Not surprisingly, within minutes of Allison and my conversation ending did I get a rash of text messages from Lydia Martin, however, unlike the self-centered ones from before, these were quite apologetic, where she, too, voiced just how bad she felt not being there for me during such a stressful time.

And so, although these teenagers seemed to give me a headache more of the time than not, they had, yet again, surprised me…

Sure they were immature and petty, but deep down, they seemed like good people, and it honestly escaped me as to why they cared so much.

This rare, sanguine high was soon interrupted however, for my cellphone suddenly buzzed once again.

Sighing, I half-expected it to be Scott with his own apology, or Kyle trying to pester me some more, however the second that I saw Stiles' name on the screen, dread swept over me.

"Hello?" I asked, stomach knotting a bit.

"Charlie," his rushed voice was frantic and extremely strained, "I-it's Scott…"

The sheer panic in Stilinski's voice must have triggered something inside of me, for despite my inability to feel any part of my body, I sat right up and demanded: "Where are you?"

"Down the block," he muttered, anxiously. "Come downstairs, we gotta go find him…"

Mind much slower than usual, I tried to process what was going on.

"Find him? But didn't you… didn't you chain him up?" my voice sounded much deeper to me than usual.

Swinging my legs off the bed took such strenuous effort that I had even missed the beginning of Stiles' rant, but as I huffed and puffed and tried to muster up the energy to stand, I made out the tail end of his rapid rambling: "And so I gave him the dog bowl of water, you know cause he's been being such a major ass with making out with Lydia and… well… generally being a huge dickhead… and he started freaking out but I wouldn't let him go cause he said he might kill someone earlier, and then it got quiet so I checked, and now he's gone… vanished, like out the window into the night and I don't know where he's…"

Zoning out the rest of his nonsensical and overly energetic babbling, I slowly hoisted myself up and stood, whilst trying not to vomit.

No wonder why he was being so weird and upset tonight.

I should have known it had something to do with stupid Lydia Martin…

Bumping my way into things, Stilinski's endless words whizzed around my head, which only made my foul mood even worse.

"_Stiles_," I barked sharply, blindly reaching for the railing as I slowly stumbled down the steps.

"I'm outside," he replied restlessly, ignoring my way of telling him to shut up. "Where are you?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I muttered sourly, gagging a bit as I made it to the landing.

"Well hurry up!" he exclaimed, shrill voice grating my ears.

Grumbling, I hung up the phone and shoved it into my jean short pocket as I opened the front door, allowing the cool night air to wake me up a little bit.

I rushed out of the Stilinski's quaint home in as straight a path as possible, but due to the immense amount of tranquilizer in my system and the no doubt anxiety attack flooding my mind, I could barely see what I was doing.

And once I made it over to the Jeep, I was finally able to see Stiles' ghostly pale and nervous face watching me intently as he tapped on the steering wheel a bit violently.

"Unlock it," I commanded, trying to open the door, but I had to pause for a moment to figure out which handle was the real one.

Obediently doing so, the boy watched me literally throw my body into the passenger seat, and as I tried to reposition my slumped over form, he inquired with an odd tone of voice: "You used the front door?"

"I'm trying to avoid doing anything wolf-y tonight, okay?" I crossly growled, before impatiently snapping: "Are we gonna go?"

Nodding vehemently, Stiles threw his blue Jeep out of park and began ranting again, but as the scenery zoomed by, I had to ignore him to keep myself from throwing up everywhere.

Just friggin great… I was at the perfect level of high where I would have probably been fine all night, and now, here I was… yet again… being dragged into everyone else's crap.

"Charlie!" I heard the boy's far away voice call again.

"W-what?" I asked, trying to blink my blurred vision into focus.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good," I could hear the kid's erratic heart pounding in his chest, undoubtedly freaking out over the idea of having two crazed werewolves to worry about instead of just one.

"Would you stop asking me that?" I snarled, running my hand through my long, wavy hair. "If I say I'm fine, I'm fine…"

Car suddenly screeching to a halt, my entire body slid forward as I crashed rather hard into the dashboard.

Hissing in pain, I glared over at the oddly gaping Stilinski and demanded: "What the Hell?"

Ignoring my chiding, the pale boy's caramel eyes were fixated on my punctured and bruised up left arm.

Heart racing, I desperately hoped that this wasn't happening as I tried to play it off as innocently as possible: "Stiles… what are you…"

"What is that?" he cut me off, somewhat sickened face staring at my arm.

"It's nothing," I crossed my arms, but as the lanky dork tried to grab at it to get a better look, I shoved him away rather gruffly.

Light brown eyes wide and now staring at me hard in the face, Stiles shook his head firmly: "That's not 'nothing'."

"Stiles, drive," I spoke darkly, staring ahead, unable to look at his probing and disappointed stare.

Of all the people to find out about this, it _had_ to be him…

Feeling even sicker, I tried to concentrate on keeping my vomit down, figuring throwing up would only validate the teenager's judgmental thoughts.

"Is this why you've been acting so weird?" he demanded, and the seriousness of his voice made me turn to face him.

His heart was beating quickly, earnestly awaiting my response, but something in how he was looking at me made it feel almost impossible to lie to the guy… well, almost…

"It's the full moon, okay? Like you said, I've been under a lot of stress and with Derek gone… I… I needed to do something, okay?" I blurted out whilst my companion sadly stared back at me.

I couldn't have him look at me like that…

I couldn't have Stiles see me the way Derek once did…

"But I swear," I gave my most convincing lie to date, "It was only this once…"

Seemingly unsure as to whether or not to buy what I was saying, Stiles continued to just gaze at me as he searched for the words.

"C-Charlie…"

"I promise this was the only time," I cut off the kid's concerned words. "But we got a possible homicidal werewolf on the loose, so I think we should focus on that…"

Making a face, I could tell Stilinski was quite uneasy about just dropping the conversation, but upon my reminding him that Scott was running around Beacon Hills, putting basically everyone in danger, the pale boy with short brown hair slowly nodded, and started to drive again.

We sped down the road in stiff silence, both of us peering out the window, too uncomfortable to speak to each other.

Why was everything going wrong?

The universe _had_ to hate me…

But I guess I couldn't blame it…

Flipping through my phone's contact list, I clicked 'call' and held the device to my ear, and while I listened to it ring, I felt Stiles' gaze finally shoot over to me.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a low voice as he tapped the dashboard and peered back out the window.

"Driving around the entire town looking for him isn't gonna do much of anything," I responded, staring up at the full moon in dread as I felt myself slowly but surely sobering up.

Perfect…

"And you think he's just gonna pick up, and be like 'hey, I'm all wolfed out and gonna rip some dude's throat out, but first I gotta take this call'?" Stiles incredulously scoffed a bit.

"_No_," I growled through clenched teeth. "You said he was all pissed off about Allison right? I mean she dumps him and then starts becoming BFFs with Jackson… so it only makes sense that he'd be fixated on her when he shifts…"

Looking of at me with his brows raised, I could tell the kid was impressed at my logic.

Sure, I seemed like some inattentive drugged up dummy, but I had my moments…

But before the boy could voice his approval of my plan, Allison picked up her phone.

"Hey, Allison… um, nothing, but ugh, I was just wondering," I awkwardly talked over her pleasant and friendly greeting, nervous eyes landing on Stiles': "Ugh, where are you?"

* * *

Whipping his blue Jeep into a spot at the local sporting goods store, Stiles and I scanned the crowded and shadowy lot for any sign of Allison, Jackson, or Scott.

Apparently she and Whittemore were talking in his car, and if that wasn't going to set off the young wolf, I didn't know what would…

"S-should we go out there?" Stiles whispered, face squashed up against his slowly fogging up window.

"Why are you whispering?" I asked, brows raised in complete confusion.

Thinking for a moment, he then responded uncertainly: "Cause we're on a stakeout?"

Rolling my eyes, I responded: "_No_. And we need wait and see if Scott actually shows up and if any hunters follow him… I'm not trying to get shot tonight…"

Making a face, Stiles nodded after a moment or two of thought over my words, but soon, we saw a dark shadow dart by the car in front of us.

Simultaneously leaning forward, we both pressed our hands against the windshield and stared into the darkness.

"What was that?" Stiles voice was a bit panicked.

"Sh!" I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

"I thought I didn't have to whisper!" he cried in exasperation, making me slap him upside the head.

Ignoring the teenager's pouting as he rubbed his head, I continued to listen intently.

Whatever was out there, it was pissed… really, _really_ pissed…

Never tearing my eyes from the darkened spot where I heard the werewolf's heart thumping wildly in its chest, I reached for the handle and slowly opened the door.

"W-what are you doing?" Stiles gulped nervously, eyes wide as he watched me slowly making moves to exit the Jeep.

"I'm going out there," I whispered back, eyes fixated on the shadowy shape that just moved even closer to Jackson's Porsche.

"But you said you wanted to make sure it was alone," Stiles pointed out, his voice strained.

"I only hear one heartbeat," I muttered, preparing myself to take on whatever was out there.

Although the drugs were wearing off, I knew I was still way too high to shift, let alone take on some enraged, super-charged full moon werewolf…

Whatever was out there, my getting involved was certainly going to hurt…

"B-but how do you know it's Scott?" Stilinski voiced his concern again, his own pulse racing as fast as mine.

Glancing at him, I stated much more stoically than I felt: "I don't."

Then, leaving the pale gawky teen to gape after me, eyes wide in fearful protest, I stepped out into the cool night air, my skin prickling with goose bumps from the chilly breeze.

"Charlie!" Stiles hissed, his body sprawled across the front seats and head craning out the window.

"Stay in the car," I stated under my breath, but the second the dark shadow aggressively advanced closer to where Allison and Jackson were talking, both Stilinski and I jumped a bit.

"I'm not staying here!" he argued somewhat defensively.

"Fine," I felt my anxiety going through the roof as the shadow was clearly contemplating attacking the two teens unknowingly sitting a few feet away from it. "But you're not coming unarmed…"

"What do you mean?" he asked a bit excitedly, probably happy someone was actually taking him seriously enough to get involved in the action voluntarily.

"I don't know… grab a lacrosse stick, baseball bat, anything," I shot back, but the second those words left my lips, I saw the unknown werewolf leap onto the car.

Taking off, I sprinted as fast as I could, however my drugged legs felt heavy and made me as sluggish as a human.

And by the time I made it to the car, where Allison and Jackson were terrified and staring at the dented roof above them, I saw another, much larger shape knock the murderous wolf off the vehicle.

Ducking behind the nearest car, I heard Allison's protesting voice telling Jackson to stay in the Porsche, but as the boy swore loudly over the damage to his vehicle, I heard the sounds of a scuffle taking place down the hill a few yards away.

Cautiously making sure my classmates did not see me, I rushed down the embankment and darted into the shadowy tree line where I saw two shifted figures fighting intensely, however something made me stop in my tracks.

From the dim moonlight, I could tell the smaller of the two was indeed Scott McCall, but the larger one was definitely _not_ the Alpha…

So who was he?

Slowly inching my way closer, I strained my eyes as the two continued to wrestle about violently…

No… it couldn't be…

And as I began to recognize the shape of the larger werewolf beating the crap out of Scott, I heard the most unexpected voice aggressively speak up.

"Scott! Stop!" a hauntingly familiar voice rang out in the darkness, making my entire body freeze.

"Stop!" I heard the same voice repeat itself.

Human once again, a horrified Scott panted back: "W-what… what's happening to me?"

"Exactly what he wants to happen," the voice stated darkly.

What?

No…

Could it really be…

Slowly walking over, as if I were in a trance, I didn't even blink or acknowledge Stiles who had ran over to me and was now laughably wielding a baseball bat… as if that would have done any good…

"Charlie," his voice echoed in my head, but all I could do was slowly approach the two figures, my heart panging against my chest wildly.

It… it couldn't be…

We saw it happen…

We saw him die…

I… I saw him die…

Didn't I?

"I-I can't do this," Scott stammered. "I can't be _this _and be with Allison."

His voice was filled with self-loathing and disgust, and as Stiles and I slowly made our way over to the two figures, still shrouded in darkness, I heard McCall desperately ask: "Is there a cure?"

"For someone like you?" the voice asked. "For someone who was bitten? Maybe…"

And now I knew that Stiles had finally realized what had me so distracted, because I heard the boy gasp under his breath: "No way…"

"What is it?" Scott demanded as the wind picked up.

"It's said you have to kill the one that bit you," the man forebodingly replied, and as I heard Scott mutter how impossible killing the Alpha would be, the wind blew the leaves just enough so that the pale moon light landed on the bright green eyes and stubbly face of my supposedly dead older cousin.

Derek was alive!


	17. Chapter 17

**OK, sooooo I'm SOOOOO sorry it took me this long to update! I have been slammed at work (currently working two jobs) and I just couldn't focus from being so tired. **

**This chapter is long though, so I hope you guys like it! I'm excited to write the next chapter and have parts started for it all ready, so hopefully that will be up soon!**

**THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AMAZING SUPPORT! Over 100 REVIEWS?! :) I literally cried... no jokes... I love you all so much and could not have gotten this far without you! So keep it up.**

**ALSO: i know a ton of you are begging for Charlie and Derek to get over their rocky family situation and I promise they will get better, but I believe Season 1 is going to be the one I put them through the most (and maybe half of Season 2 ;)...) I just feel both characters are stoic and hard-headed and unemotional and damaged and since they're Hales, they handle stuff so ass-backwards! so patience please! BUT IT WILL PAY OFF!**

**As always, follow/favorite/review if yah got the time! Otherwise, read away my loves!**

**SEVENTEEN: HOWLIN' FOR YOU**

I wish I could say that everything worked out… that when I saw my older cousin standing there, alive and well, I forgot all about the harsh words that had been exchanged… that all of our issues were put aside as I ran over and threw my arms around him, only for Derek to hug me back…

I wish I could say that, I really do, but we're Hales, and nothing is ever that simple in our family.

So, hands gripping the steering wheel of Derek's black Camaro, I tried to block out how absolutely offended I was that my older cousin had let me think that he was dead for a whole week.

He had to have known witnessing that would have scarred me, and how the idea of him being gone would have driven me insane, but clearly that didn't seem to matter to him.

No, upon seeing him standing there, unmaimed and calmly speaking to McCall, I knew that Derek had truly meant what he had said in the parking lot.

I couldn't blame him for being tired of my constant mess-ups and embarrassing weaknesses…

I knew I was a bourdon, a bourdon he was finally tired of enough to walk away from…

Derek was actually done with me.

"Charlie," Scott's nervous voice croaked. "C-could you slow down?"

Shaking the nagging thoughts from my head, I refocused on the car chase at hand.

Speeding down the dark highway running through the woods, I shifted gears and merely sped up, grinning to myself as I heard Stiles' yelps from the backseat and saw Scott gripping his armrest in pure terror.

"Heading northwest in pursuit of suspect," the police radio sounded from the back, as I glanced in the review mirror at the silver vehicle quickly gaining on us.

Damn, that bitch could drive…

"Hold on," I frowned, suddenly whipping the speeding sports car so that we made a very sharp turn down a dirt road.

Hearing both boys slam into the doors with loud cries and heavy thuds, the vehicle swerved a bit on the gravel as Stilinski yelled: "Jesus Christ! What the Hell?"

"We need to lose her!" I exclaimed back, not even trying to hide my amusement.

God, this was absolutely exhilarating!

"You're enjoying this way too much," Scott gasped, chocolate brown eyes still fretfully wide, yet his voice was a bit scolding in nature.

Glancing at him, a wicked and crooked grin spread across my face as I heard Kate Argent's car screech and turn down the road we were zooming down.

"Oh God," Stiles muttered from the backseat, his pale face now somewhat green, "I think I'm gonna hurl…"

"It's either this or we die," I almost sang, switching gears again and flooring it.

"Or we end up dying in a fiery car-crash!" the boy with short brown hair and light brown eyes' voice cracked.

"Don't be so dramatic," I glanced back again, finding that the hated huntress was now quickly catching up.

"Suspect is on foot," the radio's crackly voice announced. "I repeat… suspect is on foot and heading into Iron Works…"

Heart racing with gleeful adrenaline, I heard my two companion's sickened and worried pulses increase, as we all immediately looked back behind us, only to find that the silver car was no longer following the Camaro.

"Shit," I hissed, knowing very well the Argents had a police scanner, too.

Slamming on the breaks, I felt Stiles' gangly form smack against the back on my seat whilst Scott flew into the dashboard.

With both teenagers collectively moaning in pain, I quickly put the car in reverse and barely even mumbled an apology as I started driving the black Camaro backwards at break-neck speed.

"CHARLIE!" Scott yelled, his frantic eyes the widest I had ever seen them.

"Are you crazy?" Stiles also piped up, staring out the back window as I continued to speed down the dark and unstable road backwards.

"We're gonna die," Scott closed his eyes tightly as he began to hyperventilate a bit. "We're gonna die…"

"Shut up!" I snapped, as we reached the T in the road.

In one fluid motion, I turned the wheel and redirected the Camaro back down towards the way we came, not even dropping below my current speed of 109 MPH.

Wincing at the two boys' hollers assaulting my sensitive eardrums, I straitened out and stabilized the car with ease as we zoomed down the pitch-black road.

Panting heavily, Stiles could barely get out: "What… the… Hell… was… that?"  
Quickly looking back at his absolutely sickened and petrified face, I tried not to smile as I feigned innocence: "What? We don't have time to stop…"

Shooting me a look, the kid moved his opened mouth as if to speak, but eventually just leaned his head back against the seat's headrest, both in surrender and relief that he was still alive.

"How far are we?" I suddenly demanded quite seriously for I had realized that Kate's car was nowhere to be found. "We need to get to Derek before they do…"

"Well we need to make it there in one piece before we can rescue anyone!" McCall was as helpful as usual.

"Oh please," I rolled my eyes, tone of voice defensive and a bit snotty. "I'm a great driver…"

"Yeah, tell my stomach that," Stiles griped, making me just shake my head.

Christ, they were such drama queens…

Weren't boys supposed to like this stuff?

"LEFT!" Scott suddenly yelled, pointing at the quickly approaching road.

Pressing down on the breaks as hard as I could, I just barely made the extremely sharp turn before we could miss it.

Tires burning on the asphalt, the car skidded, causing me to take some evasive action.

Heart leaping in my own chest, I suddenly lost control of the Camaro as the car jumped off the road and began sliding on the rocky shoulder.

Gripping the steering wheel as hard as possible, my knuckles turned white, as all three of us bellowed at the top of our lungs.

Switching gears wildly, I managed to regain some semblance of control as I directed us back onto the paved street and angrily barked at Scott: "YOU COULDN'T HAVE GIVEN ME MORE OF A WARNING?"  
Gasping for air in the back, a ghostly Stiles groaned to himself: "I'm gonna throw up…"

Both of us ignoring it, a just as vexed Scott snapped back: "WELL MAYBE IF YOU SLOWED DOWN A LITTLE BIT!"

Simply glowering at the young wolf, I spitefully floored it as the Iron Works came into our line of sight.

Bright blue and red lights flashing ahead, I could hear the sound of gunshots going off.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

"Get ready!" I gave my warning as we quickly approached the gate blocking our way onto the facility's grounds.

"Oh no," Stiles ducked down and covered his head as Scott's eyes nearly bugged out of his face.

Bracing myself for the impact, I tried to block out their yells as the Camaro plowed through the gates, breaking through them as we sped through the shadowy lot.

With more shots ringing out, Scott then noticed where my older cousin was darting about, avoiding the deadly bullets.

"There!" he pointed him out, "He's over there!"

Eyes watching him barely dodging Chris Argent's murderous artillery fire, my eyes narrowed as my blood began to boil.

Ramming through a few metal containers, we halted to an abrupt spot next to where a panting and sweating Derek was currently concealing himself from the shower of bullets aimed right at his head.

"Get in!" I commanded, as the Camaro was now becoming the target of Mr. Argent's assault.

Diving in through opened backseat window, I didn't even wait for his body to fully enter the car before I slammed on the gas and got us the Hell out of dodge.

Yanking my heavily breathing cousin into the seat next to him, Stiles scolded him in frustration: "What part of laying low don't you understand?"

Shooting the dorky teen a beyond threatening look, Derek shut the boy right up before he bellowed out in rage: "I had him, goddammit!"

"Who?" Scott asked, turning around in his seat as I slowed down, now fully certain that we had lost all of the police and hunters gunning for us. "The Alpha?"

"YES!" Derek's furious voice shook. "He was right in front of me! And then the friggin police showed up!"  
"Hey!" Stiles boldly defended his father. "They're just doing their jobs!"

Shooting Stilinski the deadliest of gazes, Stiles immediately shrank back and stammered with a weak voice: "Y-you know… I-I'm just gonna stop talking…"

Still glowering at the pale and awkward teen, Derek then turned his angry gaze onto McCall: "Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!"

"Can we just get past that?" I asked in exasperation, my brows raised. "He made a dumbass mistake… we all get it…"

Turning his beyond stormy attention onto me, Derek demanded in a cold and aggressive voice: "Why are _you_ here?"

Pretending that his harsh rudeness had zero effect on me, I ignored Stiles' and Scott's looks and quickly shot back: "Someone needed to drive the Camaro…"

"There's two other people in this car that have licenses," he growled back, crossing his muscular arms.

Letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh, I snorted in amusement: "Scott's mom won't even let him touch her car and have you seen Stiles' Jeep? The thing looks like it was in a Monster Truck Rally…"

"Hey!" I ignored Stilinski's insulted outburst and Scott's sniggers.

"Besides," I brushed my wavy black hair out of my face as I effortlessly switched gears to prove my point, "We both know I'm the best at handling sticks…"

Breaking out into loud guffaws, my cousin and I shot pointed looks at the two immature teens clearly thinking about my word choice in the most immature and crude terms.

And once McCall and Stiles choked down their own laughs, Derek spoke up again sharply: "If you're the best, then wanna explain all the dents and scratches to the finish?"

Staring back at him, I raised my brows and retorted dryly: "Blame the Argents… or _maybe_ its payback for letting me think you were dead for a week…"

Hearing his heart suddenly race, my older cousin's hostile green eyes flashed menacingly as he seethed through clenched teeth: "Charlie…"

"Wanna tell me how that works?" I demanded bitterly, my own temper flaring up as I quickly glanced from Derek and back to the road. "You were just gonna let me think the Alpha killed you until what? When Scott needed your help? Real nice, Derek…"

Catching both teenage boys shifting from the thick, uncomfortable exchange going on, I felt their eyes nervously darting between my cousin and I, no doubt nervous that the notoriously volatile Hales were about to get into a violent row.

Staring straight at me, face void of all emotions, Derek's icy and even voice cut through the tense silence like a knife: "You know _exactly_ why I did it."

"Okay, _okay_," Scott must have heard just how biting Derek's words were, for I felt his chocolate brown eyes resting intently on me as I blankly stared ahead at the scenery flying by, my pained heart pounding in my chest.

"H-how did you find him? How'd you find the Alpha?"

Sitting back in his chair, Derek kept his mouth shut as he grumpily stared out the window, clearly unaffected by just how callous and cruel he had been towards me.

Heart feeling as if his big feet had just stomped all over it, I blinked furiously while the fact that my older cousin truly hated me sank in… '

"Could you just trust us for like half a second here?" McCall pressed impatiently, his voice strained as he now stared back at Derek.

"Yeah!" Stiles exclaimed exuberantly. "_All_ of us!"

Irritated gaze drifting over the pale kid's face hovering mere inches from his own, Derek narrowed his green eyes hostilely.

"O-or not…" Stilinski stammered, again shrinking away as his caramel eyes glanced at my impassive face.

"Look," Derek sighed under Scott's intense and unrelenting stare. "The last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out."

_What?_

Laura was never close to figuring out what had happened to our family…

Or did she and Derek just keep that from me, too? Their crazy and unstable baby cousin that they feared would ruin the entire investigation…

Staring at my older cousin's face with the most betrayed of expressions, it took all I had to bite my tongue rather than chew him out.

"Oh really?" my strained voice was quite dangerous. "What did Laura find out, Derek?"

Stiles and Scott, yet again, exchanged uneasy glances, for McCall's attempt to change the subject and postpone this family blowout had clearly backfired…

My head was spinning.

Sure, I had my issues… trust me I knew it…

No one could possibly have been more disappointed in how I turned out than myself, but the one thing I never was, was a disloyal liar…

And now, time and time again, Derek was revealing just how much he had kept from me… how many secrets he had harbored… how many lies he had told…

"She, ugh, she found two things," my older cousin avoided my probing stare as his heart rate became more elevated.

Good!  
The bastard should feel uncomfortable!

"The first was a guy named Harris," he stated, making the two teenagers, as well as myself, perk up a bit.

"Harris? Like our chemistry teacher?" Scott asked, brows furrowed in utter confusion.

Shaking his head, Derek muttered: "I… I don't know yet…"

Sure you don't…

Scoffing, I merely bit my cheek and shook my head in disbelief.

Maybe I was better off without his untrustworthy, sorry ass after all…

"What's the second?" McCall inquired.

"Some kind of symbol," my older cousin rummaged about his leather jacket and eventually pulled out a piece of paper.

Handing it over to Scott, I glanced down at the paper as well, and in that exact moment, both the young wolf and I exchanged surprised and troubled looks.

Obviously hearing our racing pulses and taking in our apparent shock and disturbed reactions, Derek demanded: "What? Do you guys recognize this? Do you know what this is?"

Nodding stiffly, I elected to keep my mouth shut.

So you wanna keep stuff from me? Well two can play at that game…

Scott, however, under both Derek and Stiles' scrutinizing gazes, cracked under the pressure and stuttered: "I-I've seen this before… on a necklace…"

Tentatively looking from me to his gawking friend, and then eventually landing on Derek's impatiently raised brows, Scott McCall then uttered the unsettling fact that this exact symbol could be found on a piece of jewelry owned by none other than Allison Argent.

* * *

"Could you just ask her?" Scott begged me for what felt like the millionth time.

Since the incident at the Iron Works last night, the young wolf had been stressed out beyond belief over the idea of trying to get that pesky little necklace from his ex-girlfriend.

Talking to her was awkward enough for him as it was, let alone trying to get a hold of that particular family heirloom without raising suspicion, and due to the amount of anxiety this generated for the baby werewolf, Scott had been nagging me nonstop to take his place…

Lucky me…

"No," I sighed in annoyance, shutting my locker with a bit more force than usual. "And my answer's not gonna change, so just quit asking me…"

Running a hand through my hair, I tried to ignore just how bright the hallway seemed to be today… or how loud…

Since moving in with the Stilinski's two days ago, and especially after that close call with Stiles, I had to cut back on my injections to make sure my arms would have time to heal, and although it kept my drug habit under wraps, I was now constantly on an emotional and hormonal rollercoaster.

Right now, well, let's just say that I was currently in a really dark, really angry low…

Derek, though alive, wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.

Kate and Chris Argent were mere days from finding out Scott and my secret, and Allison, a girl I had grown rather fond of… as far as humans go at least… she was about to be inducted into the deadly family business…

And now, this whole situation with the Laura keeping secrets about the Alpha, my chemistry teacher's connection to my family's death, and the general mayhem seemingly sucking me deeper into the drama of this God forsaken town, well, I was about to lose it.

"But Charlie," Scott whined some more, running after me as I stalked off down the hall, itching for my next fix, or at least a cigarette.

God, I needed to get some more pills…

They were _so_ much easier!

"Please… come on," he pressed some more, finally pushing me over the edge.

"No, Scott!" I snapped, shooting him a pointed look as I literally plowed my way through a small group of small freshman from the chess team.

Giving the groaning kids now rubbing their frail and sore arms an apologetic look on my behalf, McCall jogged to catch up to me as I strode down the hall grouchily.

"W-why not?" he raised his brows, arms outstretched in infuriation.

"Because you screwed things up with her. Not me. So you fix it!" I spoke sharply, as Stiles clumsily darted over to us, hands tightly gripping the straps to his backpack.

"But… but… tell her she needs to talk to Allison!" Scott pathetically beseeched his best friend.

Mouth slightly opened, Stilinski's light brown eyes darted between his friend's undeniably desperate face, but once I shot him a severe look, the lanky kid merely muttered: "I…I'm not saying anything."

Giving him a small nod of approval, a small grin tugged at the corner of my lips as McCall continued to voice his supreme angst over this entire situation.

"This is gonna be impossible!"

"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it," Stiles suggested with an overly exaggerated shrug.

"How?" Scott's voice was shrill and strained, making me wince a bit.

"It's easy… just say 'hey Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there's anything on or in it that can lead me to the Alpha werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you'?" Stiles grinned broadly, whilst I giggled from my spot between the two boys.

Shooting the both of us a dirty look, Scott sulked some more: "You're not helping…"

"Why don't you just talk to her?" I stated the most obvious solution to this apparently colossal issue.

Chocolate brown eyes staring down at his feet, McCall glumly muttered: "She won't talk to me…"

Rounding the corner, I impatiently offered: "Okay… then just swipe it when she takes it off…"

"I'm not gonna steal from Allison!" the young werewolf said a bit too loudly, making a few of our peers glance our way as we stood outside the English classroom: "Besides… w-what if she like… only takes it off when she takes a shower or something?"

Clapping his downtrodden best friend's back, Stiles reassuringly stated: "That's why you gotta ease back into it, okay? Get back on her good side and remind her of the good times… _then_ ask for the necklace…"

And as Stiles and I awaited for McCall to shoot down that suggestion, as well, an unexpected smirk spread across the tan teen's dimpled face.

Furrowing my own brows, I heard his heart rate elevate a bit, and as I glanced questioningly at Stilinski, the gawky kid merely asked his buddy flatly: "You're thinking of her in the shower, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Scott mumbled dreamily, while I simply shook my head and rolled my eyes.

And I thought Stiles was the one with ADHD…

"All right, stay focused, okay?" Stilinski asked as the bell rang, signaling the start to our day. "Get the necklace, get the Alpha, get cured, and get Allison… in that order… got it?"

Nodding firmly, Scott then led the way into English class, leaving me to cope with a throbbing headache for the entire rest of the morning.

* * *

Drumming my fingers on the table in the corner of the library, I bounced my leg as I stared at the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until free period was over so that I could sneak off to the bathroom and have a bogie.

Not only did I have to drastically cut back on my drug intake, now that I was living with the Stilinski's, Stiles took it upon himself to make sure I wouldn't smoke on his property or in the Jeep, and since the genius barely got us to Beacon Hills High School on time, I didn't even get to enjoy my morning cigarette…

"Stop fidgeting!" Lydia scolded me without even looking up from her Chemistry textbook.

Sighing heavily, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms, only to look up from my chewed up nails and see Allison staring at me with the most worried of expressions.

She had tried her best not to push me into talking about where I had been over the past week, for I'm sure she figured being taken into protective custody was overwhelming enough without her nagging for details.

I was grateful she didn't pressure me into talking about it.

I was tired and my brain literally felt like it was on fire, and I knew that maintaining a consistent story from the million lies I currently had going on would have been nearly impossible.

Giving her a small, forced smile, I went to stick another piece of gum into my all ready stuffed mouth, but soon found that I was all out.

Dammit…

Where was that Lahey kid when you needed him?

Deciding to get my mind off of the intense withdrawal currently tearing through my sickened body, I leaned forward and tried to sound as genuinely interested in the brunette's teenage angst as possible: "So… how are you doing by the way?"

Looking up from her notebook, Allison blinked a bit and furrowed her brows, obviously needing more clarification.

"With the whole Scott thing," I stated in a low voice, ignoring the strawberry blonde's stern look telling me to shut up.

I figured I might as well find out how royally screwed McCall was in terms of getting his hands on that necklace…

"Oh," her pretty brown eyes looked down as her heart was beating a bit unevenly. "F-fine, I guess…"

Nodding, I paused, unsure of whether or not I should try to push her into speaking more, and after a moment of contemplation, I chose to just go for it.

"I-I mean… ugh, have you spoken to him?" I inquired, brows raised with curiosity.

Biting her lip, the brunette silently shook her head, making her curls bounce a bit.

She looked quite upset over the whole situation, and after seeing how torn up Scott was over it, part of me just wanted to sit the two of them down and fix it… but just for the selfish reason that I was tired of their moping around, of course…

"Has he tried to contact you?" I pressed some more, making Lydia clear her throat in utter irritation.

Glancing between the vexed queen bee trying to finish her homework and then back to me, Allison shook her head again and pretended to get back to her own studies.

Gnawing on the gum which had now lost all of its flavor, I ran a hand through my hair and began drumming my fingers again.

Scott certainly had his work cut out for him…

Maybe I could help even the odds for him a little bit…

Opening my mouth, I suddenly leaned forward and offered weakly: "He _is_ sorry, you know…"

Glancing back up at me with conflicted and somewhat glassy brown eyes, Allison opened her mouth to respond, but simply chose to remain quiet.

"He cares about you a lot," I pushed some more, but the moment those words left my lips, Lydia Martin snapped her book shut quite loudly and nipped at me.

"Scott McCall lost his chance with her. She's doing just _fine _without him, and I personally think she's wasted enough time and energy on some silly little boy!" she hissed, hazel eyes piercing mine.

Jesus… someone was testy…

Probably because Jackson was busy kissing her best friend's ass and paying her no attention…

Choosing to let the strawberry blonde's rude behavior slide, I kept my temper in check and merely put my hands up in surrender and whispered: "Okay, okay… I was just making sure she was fine… that's all…"

Catching the brunette's understanding, yet still saddened smirk, I felt a pang of guilt.

Maybe I should be getting that necklace instead of Scott… I mean, Allison seemed completely depressed over the whole ordeal, and I felt bad knowing McCall was planning on weaseling his way back into her life when she clearly needed the space…

"Thanks," Allison finally whispered back, forcing Lydia to glare at the both of us.

Exchanging smiles, we both stifled our chuckles over annoying the temperamental queen bee and went back to our prospective homework assignments, but before even a minute had passed, all three of us were interrupted once again.

"Charlie!" Stiles' tried to whisper but failed miserably as he rushed over and tripped into our table by the windows.

Looking up and taking in his panicked face, I heard his heart beating quickly while Lydia cried in utter exasperation: "_Oh my God_!"

Frantic light brown eyes finally registering who I was sharing a table with, the pale boy's cheeks turned a blotchy shade of pink as he lost the ability to speak and merely gaped at Lydia's stormy expression.

And after a few awkward moments, where Allison and I glanced around uneasily, Beacon Hill's most popular girl addressed me with a bratty tone of voice: "What is he doing?"

Shrugging, I flatly responded: "Who knows…"

Watching the lanky boy still obviously searching for his words, Allison giggled while Lydia remained anything but amused.

"Well are you gonna go talk to him outside or should I move?" the strawberry blonde's voice was a bit high and strained as she ignored the awkward noises coming from the boy's throat.

Sighing, I nodded my head and grabbed my belongings before yanking Stilinski by the flannel shirt and dragging him away from his little lover.

"You're gonna need to get over this whole 'fear of talking to Lydia' thing," I stated lazily as I pulled the still star-struck kid out of the quiet library. "It's just creepy…"

"I-I'm not creepy," he muttered, slowly regaining the use of his brain.

Putting my hands on my hips, I cocked my head to the side and raised my eyebrows expectantly: "You know everything about the girl but have yet to have more than a 30 second conversation with her… and most of that time is spent with you just standing there staring…"

Opening his mouth to defend himself, Stiles then ran a hand over his hair and clumsily crossed his arms: "What's your point?"

Shaking my head, I rubbed my exhausted eyes and asked: "What did you wanna talk to me about?"

Eyes immediately widening as he remembered why he had come to find me, Stilinski practically jumped up into the ceiling.

"O-oh! Yeah! Right! We gotta go!" he excitedly exclaimed, taking off down the hall.

Staying put, I watched the tall and gangly boy rush off down the empty corridor as I called after him in complete confusion: "Go where?"

Spinning around so quickly that his sneakers squeaked on the floor, Stiles hurried back over to where I was standing, staring blankly at his overly energetic form.

"To find Scott."

"Oh… naturally," I trailed off for I was still lost, but before I could ask what was so urgent, Stiles' warm and slightly clammy hand grabbed my own, and while the boy dragged me down the hallway, my words became choked in my suddenly dry throat.

Heart fluttering a bit, all I could do was follow Stilinski's lead, as I tried my hardest to clear my suddenly hazy brain and convince myself that all of this was due to the lack of cigarettes and drugs in my system.

Taking in his suddenly intoxicating scent, I could barely keep my thoughts straight, let alone speak, but the second we rounded the corner, we bumped right into an equally worked up Scott McCall.

"Dude!" Scott reprimanded his best friend. "Where have you been? I told you to meet me ten minutes ago!"  
"I figured we'd need Charlie here," Stilinski explained, though all I could hear was his jumbled up words whilst I watched his mouth move in slow motion.

Stop it, Charlie!  
You're just hormonal and acting crazy!

Stiles is awkward and weird and so hyperactive that he makes you want to kill sometimes… so just get a grip over your emotions!

But still, as both boys frantically spoke amongst themselves, all I could do was simply examine every jerky and overly exaggerated move Stilinski made.

Since when did the kid seem so attractive?

"How the Hell did he find out?" Stiles' voice bounced around my head.

Staring down at my slightly shaking hand, I felt my cheeks burning.

What the Hell was going on with me?

"I have no idea," Scott's voice echoed.

"Well did he actually say it out loud… like did he use the word?"

"What word?"

"Werewolf!" Stilinski's voice cracked whilst I continued to watch him intently, mind elsewhere. "Did he literally say, 'I know you are a werewolf'?"

"N-no," Scott stammered as he paced about, "But he implied it pretty freaking clearly."

"O-okay, maybe it's not as bad as it seems," Stiles heart rate escalated a bit more, his efforts to calm his best friend down clearly futile. "I-I mean, he doesn't have proof… a-and if he wanted to tell someone, no one would believe him right?"

"You mean besides Allison's father?" Scott cried.

Pausing, Stiles muttered under his breath: "Okay, yeah… this is bad…"

"I need a cure! Like right now!" McCall was beyond frantic, and suddenly, both boys' eyes landed on my oddly calm form still gaping at Stilinski.

"Are you gonna say anything?" Scott's chocolate brown eyes were decorated with raised and agitated brows as he turned to me.

Still unaware that I was being directly addressed, I continued to blush furiously as I stared at Stiles' mesmerizingly flushed face and slightly parted lips.

"Charlie!" McCall snapped in my ear.

Immediately jumping back and holding my ringing ear, I glowered at McCall as I barked back: "What the Hell, Scott?"

"Weren't you paying attention at all?" Stiles asked dumbly, whilst his best friend gave me an odd look.

Nervously taking in Scott's eyes knowingly darting between my rosy cheeks and his pale pal, I had the sinking feeling that the usually oblivious teen had noticed why I had been so distracted.

"W-what?" I blinked, sweating a bit under both of my companion's intense looks.

"Jackson knows about Scott," Stiles explained quickly, before adding, "And probably you…"

"And you know that how?" I inquired, shaking my head a bit, having missed the entire conversation.

Glancing at one another, Scott outstretched his arms and exclaimed in frustration: "Cause he threatened me!"

Nodding slowly, I mumbled: "Oh…"

"And now he wants to turn into… well… us, and… a-and I could _really_ use a cure right about now," a panicked McCall blabbered on almost as quickly as Stiles.

"But how did he..." I began to ask, but suddenly my mind went to the scratch on the back of the tall, muscular blonde's neck and I growled: "Derek…"

"What?" both boys asked in unison before Stiles inquired: "Y-you think Derek told him?"

Rubbing my temples, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply: "Yes… well… no… it's… it's complicated."

"What's complicated?" Scott's voice continued to pierce my ears.

Wincing, I glowered at the tan teenager: "First, lower your voice… I have a headache, and second… when Derek accidently scratched Jackson a while back, it could've triggered a reaction."

"Triggered a what now?" Stiles asked, brows raised.

"What kind of reaction?" Scott also inquired nervously. "I-is… is Jackson… is he turning?"

Scoffing, I shook my head and waved the silly assumption off: "No. I checked and the scratch was no where near deep enough, but with the cut so close to his brain, I'm sure some of the toxin got into his neurological system."

Staring at me with wide, blank eyes, I could tell that both teenagers were completely lost as to what my words truly meant.

Sighing, I explained some more: "He's probably been seeing things."

"Like hallucinations?" Stilinski furrowed his brows and glanced at his best friend.

"Obviously," I shot him a look like 'duh' before continuing, "And we heard Jackson telling Allison that he saw a man turn into an animal at the school. He's putting it all together."

"Crap," Stilinski muttered, as his best friend's breathing was becoming more and more agitated.

"Where's Derek?" I demanded Scott.

"W-what? I-I don't know! I guess hiding? Like we told him to?" he retorted anxiously. "Why are you asking me? He's your cousin…"

"The guy wouldn't even tell me he was alive… so pretty sure he wouldn't share what rock he's currently under," I bitterly retorted.

"Okay, okay," Stilinski spoke up thoughtfully, his eyes bright as the wheels in his brain clearly turned. "I got another idea."

"You do?" McCall and I both raised our eyebrows in astonishment.

"Yeah, but its gonna take a little time and finesse, though."  
"But we have the game tonight! It's the quarterfinals!" Scott, as per usual, was more focused on his mundane high school career rather than the life and death situations that seemed to be constantly looming overhead.

"I know," Stiles stated with a bit too much glumness in his tone of voice and expression, but before I could think too much of it, the boy asked Scott: "Look, do you have a plan for Allison yet?"

"She's, um, in my next class," McCall looked as if he were about to get sick over the idea of trying to talk to her.

"Well, get the necklace," Stilinski stated sternly, caramel eyes blazing and his face serious.

"Right," Scott nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "Get the necklace…"

* * *

Shoulder's hunched over, I continued to duck behind the large history textbook I was currently using to conceal my location from everyone in the crowded lunch room.

Munching on my small plate of fries, I tried to occupy myself as much as possible.

The quick cigarette break I had just taken literally did nothing to curb my torturous withdrawal symptoms, and to make matters worse, now I had to dodge just about every kid in this damned school.

Lydia was droning on and on about how bad of a boyfriend Jackson was being, Allison was simply depressing me with how heartbroken she was, Scott and Stiles were giving me a headache, and apparently Kyle Greenberg had been trying to get me alone all day.

Frowning, I bit into my greasy lunch with a grimace.

I had no appetite to say the least, and I was even gagging and trying my absolute hardest not to vomit every time I moved too fast.

It was slowly driving me insane.

Wiping my brow, currently dampened in a cold sweat, I took a shaking hand and brought the water bottle that I had bought to my slightly chapped lips, but just as the revitalizing liquid surged into my parched mouth, someone suddenly scared the crap out of me.

"Hey," Stiles slammed his lunch tray opposite mine without warning, causing me to start coughing and sputtering.

Taking no notice to my rash of choked hiccups, Stilinski grabbed a handful of my fries and stuffed them into his mouth as he mumbled: "Can you believe they ran out of curly fries?"

Gasping for air, I gave the oblivious teen an incredulous look, but when he continued to take no notice of my still slightly blue face as he took some more of my food, I slapped his hand away.

Retracting his stinging limb as his caramel eyes shot me an offended look, I merely flipped my hair and started picking at my food again to spite the rude child.

Didn't his father ever teach him proper manners?

"What's up your butt?" he asked, finally noticing the large frown etched upon my face.

"Nothing," I lied pitifully, shrinking some more behind the book once I saw Danny and Greenberg enter the lunchroom.

Making a face, Stiles yanked the book away from me and asked innocently: "Whatcha reading?"

Immediately diving under the table, I slammed my head on the way down and barked irascibly at the pale boy now looking at me as a smirk slowly spread across his blotchy face: "Give that back!"

"Why?" he chuckled as he watched me rub my throbbing head, no doubt finding humor in someone else spazzing out for once.

Glowering up at him, I merely tried to snatch the book back, but Stilinski pulled it away teasingly.

"Stiles," I hissed dangerously. "I mean it…"

"Who are you hiding from?" he countered, clearly no longer intimidated by the death rays I so often shot in his general direction.

Before I could threaten to wallop him, however, Scott McCall took the seat beside his highly entertained best friend and responded: "Greenberg."

Furrowing his brows, Stiles looked at his friend and asked: "W-what?"

Using the teenager's momentary lack of focus to my advantage, I snatched the textbook back and took my seat once again with a stormy expression: "Kyle Greenberg… I'm avoiding him…"

Glancing between Scott's unsurprised face and then back to me as I propped the book up again and disappeared behind it, Stiles then stated: "Yeah… I get that, but why?"

"He wants to ask her to the Winter Formal," McCall didn't seem the slightest bit aware of just how much anxiety something like this was actually giving me.

I hated dates and parties… and any large social gathering as a matter of fact, but dances… well, let's just say I always thought a special circle of Hell should be designated for those particular functions…

Stomach knotting over the idea of being forced or guilted into dressing up and attending such an embarrassing school event, I tried my hardest to remain composed as Stilinski erupted into loud snorts.

"Greenberg's g-gonna…. he's gonna ask… ask… you?" he repeated in hysterics.

Slowly peering over the book as I bit my cheek, I shot the laughing boy daggers as Scott literally put his head into his hands over his best friend's stupidity.

"What's so funny about that?" I asked, my voice on edge as I gave the chuckling teen an icy glare.

Blinking a bit, Stiles' tearful caramel eyes glanced from Scott, who was now looking down and shaking his head wearily, and then landed on my mean mug.

Eyes widening, Stilinski choked on his remaining laughs as he cleared his throat and stumbled over his words: "N-no… that… I, um, I didn't mean it that way!"

"Then how did you mean it?" I inquired, voice even, harsh gaze steady.

Heart rate escalating, Stiles opened his mouth as he ran a hand nervously over his hair and bounced his leg: "Well… you're… you know…"

"No," I raised my brows, intently staring the perspiring boy down as he tried to recover from his folly. "I _don't_ know, actually."

Glancing to his best friend for assistance, Scott merely shrugged and watched on, keenly awaiting for my inevitable snap.

Flashing me a weak and slightly pathetic smirk, Stiles almost stated in a beseeching tone of voice: "Ugh, you're um… you're just you, okay?"

Raising my brow, I merely kept a stern face and waited for him to continue.

Swallowing hard, he searched for a better way to explain: "I-I m-mean, you're not Allison… or Lydia…"

What the Hell's that supposed to mean?

Blood beginning to boil, I couldn't help but feel offended, and even Scott seemed to suck in his breath after his best friend uttered those ill-advised words.

"Oh, God," he regretfully closed his eyes and almost winced under my beyond harsh glower. "No… Charlie, I-I just meant that you can't stand school stuff… a-and, and I mean… _come on,"_ he blabbered on, practically begging me to disregard his idiocy. "You can't tell me you actually _want_ to go to the dance…"

Pausing, I took in his truly sorry expression and gave my thoughtful and honest answer, "No," but as I watched Stilinski sigh in relief, I quickly added with a bit of a biting tone. "But it would still be nice to get asked…"

"But you hate Greenberg!" Stiles cried, still not getting the point.

"I don't _hate_ him," I crossed my arms stubbornly, making both boys raise their brows at me in disbelief.

"You can't even talk to Kyle without threatening to hurt him," McCall pointed out the truth. "But you'd still go to the dance with him?"

"I never said I'd say yes," I sighed in exasperation, and as I grabbed a fry, I added nonchalantly: "Besides, if I did go with Greenberg, I doubt there'd be much talking involved…"

Turning my full attention onto the food I was now coolly nibbling on, I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from erupting into laughter over the now gaping and stunned boys, and for a moment, I could have sworn I heard Stiles' heartbeat become slightly uneven.

Serves them right for thinking it was such a preposterous idea for someone to actually be interested in me… even though I, myself, found it a bit odd…

"Well," I sighed, brushing some hair out of my now highly amused face as I took in my still gawking companions. "Did you get her to give you the necklace?"

Chocolate brown eyes drifting down to the tile floor, the young werewolf was clearly dejected by the new topic of conversation: "Um, not exactly."

"What happened?" Stiles asked, however his caramel eyes were still fixated on my impassive face.

"She told me not to talk to her," McCall mumbled, causing me to let out a low snort.

Could've seen that one coming from a mile away…

Both boys now shooting me dirty looks for once, I quickly stifled my giggles and feebly ventured: "So… she's not giving you the…"  
"She's not giving me the necklace!" Scott cut me off, voice full of frustration.

"Okay, okay," Stiles tried to ease his friend's mind. "Well did you find anything else out?"

"Besides that I know nothing about girls and that they're all crazy?" McCall asked, ignoring my stern look. "Nope… nothing…"

"Right, well I came up with a plan B in case something like this happened," Stilinski said, leaning forward as if we were about to organize a major battle plan.

Before the energetic and eager kid could voice his most likely overly complicated plan, however, I spoke up lazily: "Why don't you just do what I said before and steal it?"

Face falling that I had stolen his thunder, Stiles pouted a bit as Scott voiced his hopes for an alternative option: "Couldn't we just try to get to Harris?"

Shaking his head, Stilinski was the one to shut this idea down: "No… my dad's got him on 24-hour protective detail."

"Seems to be a trend these days," I stated under my breath.

Shooting me a look, Stiles chose to ignore my comment as he sighed deeply and said a bit uneasily: "Charlie's right… stealing the stupid thing is the only option we got left…"

Smiling smugly, my grin soon faded as both Scott and I heard Whittemore's taunting voice whisper out of nowhere: "Scott… can you hear me?"

Both of us perking up, we ignored Stiles' confused questions as the two of us exchanged unnerved glances.

"You can, can't you?" Jackson asked, and I could hear the haughty smile plastered on his face.

"What's wrong?" Stilinski impatiently demanded again, whilst his best friend and I tried to glance around as casually as possible.

"Jackson's talking to him," I muttered, brows furrowed as I tried to figure out where the lacrosse captain was.

Heart beginning to race, it had become quite apparent that Jackson Whittemore did, indeed, know about Scott… but did he know about me, too?

"Look at me," Jackson hissed a bit aggressively, his voice echoing about the loud cafeteria.

"He knows I can hear him," Scott's voice was thick, his own pulse racing too.

"Ugh, j-just talk to me," Stiles stared at his friend, though he seemed just as uneasy about the entire situation. "Try to act normal… like nothing's happening."

Nodding stiffly, Scott tried to focus on his best friend, while I on the other hand continued to furtively peer around.

Where the Hell was he?

"Are you trying to pretend not to hear me?" Whittemore practically read all three of our minds.

"Say something," Scott mumbled, fighting the instinctive urge to turn around and search for the blonde bully. "Talk to me!"

"I can't think of anything!" Stiles animatedly flailed about, brows raised and voice a bit strained. "My mind's a complete blank."

"Your mind's blank?" McCall growled in disbelief. "You can't think of _anything_ to say?"

"Not under this kind of pressure!" Stiles cried, while I slowly rose to my feet.

"Where are you going?" Scott hissed, eyes wide as he finally turned his head to check if Whittemore was at Lydia's table.

"Looking for me, McCall?" Jackson's voice suddenly became quite sharp as he continued to challenge the young wolf.

This stupid son of a bitch needed to shut up before Scott lost control…

"I'll be right back," I muttered, ignoring both boys' protests.

Moving about the packed cafeteria, I avoided the ever-watchful gazes of Lydia, Allison, Greenberg, Danny, and the rest of the popular kids as I searched for the handsome jackass.

"So what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger, more powerful?" Jackson continued to push McCall some more. "I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse… which means you're actually a cheater, aren't you? I mean… can you even play lacrosse?"

"Yes," I heard Scott's furious, deep growl.

Quickly glancing back behind me, I saw Stiles telling his friend to remain calm, but it was no use for wherever Jackson was, he could certainly tell he was getting to McCall.

"I'll bet my new co-captain's gonna score a bunch of goals tonight, aren't you? And while you're pretending you're not a lying cheat, I'm gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want."

Seeing Scott furiously trying to remain composed, I caught Stilinski's anxious caramel eyes, his own heart beating quite fast.

"And you know what I'm gonna start with?" Whittemore's words dripped with malice. "_Her."_

My own heart leaping at this point I, myself, grew quite angry and I could only imagine what was going through Scott's mind.

"I'm gonna destroy any chance you'll ever have with her.

And when I'm done with that, I'm gonna get her all alone, and I'm gonna get my hands all over that tight little body," I finally spotted the sneering blonde eyeing the fuming young wolf from his spot in the far corner of the lunch room.

"Scott, come on, you can't let him do this," I heard Stiles try to speak some sense into his literally irate best friend. "You can't let him have this kind of power over you."

Pushing my way through the crowd, I cracked my neck as I balled my own fists.

What the Hell was wrong with this kid?

Did he have a death wish?

"I'm gonna do everything you never got the chance to do," his voice was wicked as his eyes flashed. "And Scott… she's gonna beg for more…"

"Shut up," I heard an animalistic noise rise from Scott's chest.

Calm down, McCall… calm down…

"I'll bet she likes to get loud."

Shut it, Jackson!

"Maybe she's even a screamer," the lacrosse captain pressed more, unaware that I was literally six feet away. "How are you gonna feel, Scott… when she's screaming _my_ name?"

And just as my iron grip clamped around the arrogant jerk's forearm, a loud crack made the entire cafeteria go silent.

Seeing a fuming Scott glaring across the room at the smirked blonde, still holding the plastic tray he literally had just snapped in half, I yanked Jackson gruffly outside to the outdoor eating area.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" I snapped, shoving him away from me as I glowered up at the muscular teen.

A bit surprised to have me come at him so antagonistically, my actions didn't seem to faze the teenager for long, because a wide smile soon flashed across his chiseled face.

"Oh good, you heard," he grinned down at my irate face.

Trying to figure out if he was really this calm or simply faking it, I listened to his beyond steady heartbeat, and it made me quite uneasy.

Why was he so relaxed?

"Now, I'm sure McCall came crying to you and Stilinski about my little offer," he crossed his muscular arms.

Narrowing my eyes, I spoke threateningly: "If you know what's good for you, you'll drop the entire thing…"

"Drop it?" he scoffed, stepping closer to me and cocking his head to the side. "Why would I drop it?"

"Jackson, this isn't a game, okay?" I spoke gravely.

"Oh, I know," his smile morphed into a snarl. "And I'm done playing. You and Scott are gonna get me what I want or…"

"Or what?" I raised my brows as I challenged him, my heart pounding against my tightened chest as he invaded my personal space. "You'll take Allison from Scott? Please," I laughed mockingly. "High school romances mean jack shit to me…"

"Oh, I get that," he nodded in agreement as he slowly circled me. "You're not like everyone else… you're different… you're harder to manipulate… I respect that."

Skin crawling by the way his somewhat hungry and icy blue eyes scanned my body, I crossed my arms and ridiculed him sarcastically: "Really? Trying to use sweet talk on me? I gotta say… even from you I expected better…"

Flashing a harsh smile, Jackson bitingly stated: "Oh, I know that won't work on someone like you…"

"Then what? You gonna threaten to out me… tell the whole town I'm a werewolf and get me killed? Well get in line," I hissed back, face mere inches from his.

Eyes taking in every inch of my frowning face, incensed body, and piercing glare, Whittemore suddenly brushed some of my raven black hair out of my face, making my body stiffen right up.

"No," he spoke so softly that it was almost a whisper, his warm breath against my ear. "But I _will _tell everyone about your little drug problem."

Then, as a searing pain shot through my arm, I winced and glanced down at the lacrosse captain's nails digging into my bruised and scabbed veins.

Trying to yank my arm away from him, I was all ready weak from the withdrawal, let alone the pain, and as I struggled against his intense grip, I glowered up at his derisively grinning face.

"It's gotta be tough now that your living with the Sheriff," Whittemore continued to dig his fingers into my smarting flesh.

Eyes burning, I felt sick.

How did he know about all of this?

"How many days has it been? I mean, I heard withdrawal sucks, but you must be dying…"

"Let go of me," my voice was shaking as I tried to keep my pulse steady, but as the white-hot pain, anger, and panic rushed over me, I felt myself slowly losing control.

"Must be hard to keep a level head, especially now that Derek's gone," Jackson suddenly pushed me hard against the brick wall of the school, my all ready throbbing head banging up against it.

"Jackson, let me go or I swear," my voice quaked irately as I felt a growl rising from my chest.

Grinning broadly, I knew that this was what the kid was looking for…

He wanted to get a rise out of me, to see what buttons he needed to push to get what he wanted…

"I could help you, you know," his put his face directly into my sweating and pale one as his nails sank in deeper. "I could get you a new stash and you can say good-bye to the headaches and nausea, the fevers, the irritability…"

"Screw you!" I snarled, my eyes suddenly flashing to black and white.

Eyes widening in fear, the boy stumbled back, but once he saw me hyperventilating and trying to regain my composure, his quickened heart slowed down quite a bit.

Gasping for air and running my hands through my hair as I paced about, eyes clenched shut, my whole body felt as if it were on fire.

Get a grip, Charlie…

"It's harder to control when you're like this, isn't it?" Jackson asked, a knowing smile on his face.

Feeling sick and my vision now blurry, I mumbled over my shoulder as I hurried back into the school building: "S-stay away from me…"

And as I heard Whittemore's chuckles echoing in my ringing ears, I darted through the still crowded cafeteria and rushed into the nearest bathroom, only to empty all of my digested fries into the nearest toilet bowl.

Things just kept getting worse and worse…


End file.
